


When You Say Nothing At All

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, F/F, Femslash, Inspired by a Movie, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: The Supercat Notting Hill AU.Cat Grant, international movie star, meets Kara Danvers the travel bookstore owner. A chance spill, some frank conversations, and two people who want to see beyond the gloss of fame.That doesn't mean it's going to be easy...





	1. Our heroines meet.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaneWhoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaneWhoo/gifts).



> Thanks to @krystalgoderitch and the usual suspects for having eyes on this for me.

One more. 

One more book to shelve and then Kara can open the shop. So maybe she was supposed to open at 10 and it’s already past that. She’s got this. She is a competent businesswoman, in control of her own destiny. And she certainly doesn’t need to use her well-concealed powers to do it.

Just as she slips the Lonely Planet guide to Vietnam into its correct place in the South East Asia section, Kara loses her footing. By now she should know not to grab at the shelves to break her fall, but instinct takes over. She lands in a crumpled heap, pulling scores of books down on her head. At least she won’t bruise. 

“Morning,” Hank sighs from somewhere beside the toppled section. He lifts it off Kara with practiced ease. “All limbs intact?”

“Yes,” she grumbles, picking herself up off the floor. She smooths her plaid skirt back into place and checks that her shirt isn’t too rumpled. “Did you open up on your way in?”

“Your public awaits,” Hank answers, bending to pick up two handfuls of books. “And by public I mean-”

“Winn!” Kara greets him with more enthusiasm than she feels. “Back so soon?” In truth he’s back almost daily, the excuses wearing increasingly thin. But he buys something more often than not, and Kara’s accountant might actually murder her if she turns away a paying customer. 

“Hey, Kara.” He looks like he’s mustering the courage for a hug, so Kara turns sharply and ducks behind the counter. “Did you think about what I said about going online?”

“I think Amazon pretty much has that covered,” Kara reminds him. “Besides, part of this dream is about being a hidden gem. It’s about coming to the store as much as the books.” She gestures to the comfortable sofas in the corner, the trinkets from her own travels that hang on the walls. Her pride and joy - the postcard wall featuring cards from people who followed her advice or used her books to explore, takes up most of the back wall of the store. “Speaking of, did you ever think about going to Vietnam?”

There’s a pointed thud from where Hank is still clearing up from Kara’s fall.

“Or you know, South America is also interesting.”

“It’s really all, uh… travel?” Winn tries again. “Maybe you could diversify?”

“We have languages,” Kara retorts, pointing to the far corner. The door jingles again, and another customer disappears into the stacks. Kara only catches sight of a black leather jacket. “French, Farsi, some Swahili maybe?”

“How about Ruby or Python?” Winn tries, with what he seems to think is a charming smile. 

“Where do they speak those?” Kara tilts her head, waiting for an answer. It doesn’t come from Winn like she expects.

“In their mothers’ basements as a rule,” says a wry voice from somewhere in the Southern Europe section. It has to be leather jacket. Another American too, one of the tourists Hank is always trying to insist they attract. Winn whirls around to see who’s mocking him, having a clearer view than Kara does behind the counter. He stammers out a squeaking noise and fumbles in his messenger bag.

“I don’t… I mean, this is so not cool! But could I, would you mind? Is this weird?”

“It’s fine.” The two words are a protracted sigh, and Kara feels guilty without knowing quite why. She sidles along the counter to get a better view and sees a head of blonde curls temporarily bowed over Winn’s hastily-snatched guide to the Bed & Breakfasts of the Lake District.

“Winn, was it?” the woman asks. “Short for Winnifred?”

“What? No!” Winn starts to splutter. “Oh, thanks, I mean…”

The woman looks up at him, sunglasses pushed up on her head. “Here you go.”

“I should… see ya, Kara!”

Winn takes off, rattling the door on its hinges as he leaves. Kara is left staring at Cat Grant. International movie star Cat Grant. Two Oscar nominations, a high-profile divorce from one of the most famous actors in the world, and she slapped Jennifer Lawrence six months ago at the Golden Globes. That Cat Grant is here in Notting Hill, in Kara’s happy, twee store that sells only travel books and gets about one genuine customer a day.

“Shouldn’t he pay you for that book?” It’s nice to hear another American accent, Kara realizes. This little enclave of London has become home, and she has her fellow wandering friends who ended up here too, but it’s a little piece of home away from home that makes her feel just a little bit less alien. 

“Oh he’ll be back.” Kara flaps her hand like it’s no big deal, like she talks to celebrities every day. Is she staring? Let her not be staring, or at least not be too obvious. Blink, she tells herself. Now she’s blinking so much it’s like she’s having a stroke. Did it just get warm for the first time since she landed on this planet? “So what did you write to him?”

Cat (no seriously, the actual Cat Grant - would she mind if Kara called her Cat so casually like that?) turns to pick up a book from the end of the counter. Kara cringes on reflex, she’s picked up the illustrated guide that Kara had published two years ago. It’s never been a particularly big seller, but the advance and the small inheritance from her parents had let her buy this bookstore. 

“I wrote - let me quote myself correctly - ‘Dear Winn, She’s not that into you. Best wishes, Cat Grant.’”

“That’s a little… I mean he’s not… Winn is my friend! Or a customer, at least,” Kara sputters.

“One with a crush,” Cat teases. With a slow, movie quality grin and a slightly theatrical wink. “But you’re not interested, right?” Kara shakes her head, and Cat’s face lights up the way it does at award ceremonies, only it’s a hundred times more striking in person. It certainly looks far more genuine. 

It’s faintly terrifying to be appraised by Cat, the long, slow drag of her gaze that starts somewhere at Kara’s too-sensible shoes and finishes with a lingering look right into Kara’s eyes. Do actors get trained to hold a stare like that? “I thought I’d do you a favor. How much for this?”

“How much?” Kara can’t help it, she giggles. As Cat blinks at her, incredulous, Kara slaps her hand over her mouth and pulls herself together. Those eyes that aren’t quite hazel and aren’t quite green are so much more stunning in person than even the IMAX screen could convey. “It’s free, honestly. I can’t even give those away.”

“Well I want to buy something,” Cat insists, waving vaguely at the shelves behind her. “I’m working in Budapest next month. Anything decent on that?”

“Oh yes!” Kara is off and running, skimming the shelves she knows almost by heart and pulling the last remaining copy of her favourite guide to Hungary. The photos are some of the finest she’s ever seen, but the imprint went out of business a few years ago. “I used this one when I went. A few things have changed, but all the great stories are in there.”

Cat holds out a hand, imperious. Of course she expects to be handed things, she’s one of the most famous women in the world. Kara places it in her waiting palm, mouth going dry as Cat shoves Kara’s little booklet under her arm to better flip through the Hungary book.

“These are stunning,” Cat muses, and she lays a hand on Kara’s arm for just a moment. Whether in thanks or just acknowledgment Kara can’t be sure, but she could swear her skin burns for a second under the touch. “This photographer had a real eye. There’s something about the light that reminds me of a painting. It’s-”

“Chagall?” Kara jerks her head back towards the cash register. Over it hangs a vibrant print of the Chagall painting she knows Cat is referencing, the reds and yellows a little faded by direct sunlight but taking on a new life as Cat looks at it.

“You have good taste. Will you let me pay for this book at least?” Cat’s lips, those infamous lips that reviewers and photographers have fixated on for years, have just the hint of a pout. There’s something about it that Kara can’t help liking.

“Ten pounds,” Kara answers, which is either an outrageous bargain or a cheeky markup, but she can no sooner remember the actual price than spell her own name when that megawatt smile turns on her again. There’s a sensation of a crisp ten pound note being folded into her hand, and before Kara can think to say something else, Cat has slipped both books into one of the designer shopping bags she’s carrying, and made her way to the shop door.

With a jingle of the bells, she’s gone.

“10:15,” Kara sighs, checking her watch. It’s a present from her aunt, and has seen far better days, but it’s always kept perfect time, unlike Kara herself who rushes and hurries and almost always makes it. “Wow.”

“So you can tell time.” Hank retreats to the counter, dressed in a casual black shirt and slacks. His South London accent is just as disapproving as ever. “What’s got you all giddy? We do have work to focus on.”

“Do you know who that was, Hank?”

“Who?” 

Kara hesitates, ready to wax lyrical about chance encounters and what a small world it is, but Hank’s nonplussed expression doesn’t encourage her. 

“It doesn’t matter. I definitely need a drink though. You want anything?”

“What happened to no coffee before the first sale?”

Kara waves the crumpled money at him.

“I finally sold that last Hungarian guide, ” she says.

“The one that’s five years out of date?”

“Beautiful cities never go out of date!” Kara calls back, heading for the door and her favorite coffee shop at the far end of the street. The day is cool for late summer, but at least it’s dry. It’s the carnival next weekend, the combination of outdoor activity and a bank holiday almost guaranteeing that it will rain. Kara makes a mental note to find somewhere else to be. Her patience for the event has already worn thin. 

She lingers in the cafe, where the owner takes his time over her chocolate milk, hand stirred and presented with another hilarious anecdote about his mother, visiting him from Turkey. Kara has become a fixture of the neighborhood, three years in her shop and another year before that living on the same road. 

Distracted by a new pop-up food cart on the other side of the street, Kara collides with someone on her stroll back to the store. Her chocolate milk in its plastic to-go cup is effectively crushed between them, but Kara’s baby blue shirt gets only a few pale brown splashes. No, the bulk of the creamy liquid ends up all over the person she’s collided with.

That person being the very famous, now very irate Cat Grant.

“Watch where you’re… you!” Cat sounds like she’s taking it quite personally. She doesn’t seem playful at all now, no knowing wink, no teasing pout.

“I didn’t mean it!” Kara pleads, tossing her broken cup into the nearest trash can. “Oh gosh, that is a real mess. That’s not your favorite blouse, is it?”

“No, but it’s a one-of-a-kind gift from Gwyneth,” Cat groans. “God, first I give up on going vegan, now this. She’ll never speak to me again.”

“Would you like my shirt?” Kara offers, desperate to atone for her mistake. “It’s clean, I just put it on two hours ago.”

“You’re spattered,” Cat nods towards the marks on Kara’s shirt. “And besides, what are you going to do? Strip to your bra in the middle of the street?”

Kara flushes. “My house is nearby.” She gestures towards it. “You could get cleaned up there! Even change if you like. I just did laundry and… well, you have all those bags. Do any of them have something you could wear?”

“How near?” Cat seems skeptical, but the way her clothes are sticking to her can’t be pleasant. The striped blouse is almost certainly ruined. Maybe Kara should suggest the magical dry cleaner on Kensington High Street who has worked wonders with Kara’s own clumsiness. “And if this is some kind of bizarre kidnap attempt-”

“Three doors down,” Kara interrupts. “I can even wait outside if you like, but you might not be able to find anything without me.”

“Fine, but only because I have a lunch. I’m texting my driver to come and get me, so don’t get any funny ideas. What’s the address?”

Kara rattles it off out of habit, before stepping around the puddle of chocolate milk and leading the way to her front door with hesitant steps. She could have that blouse off, clean and dried in the blink of an eye if it had just been water, but even superpowers are no match for visible stains. Suddenly Kara is picturing Cat without that blouse - her last movie confirmed exactly the kind of shape she’s in beneath it - and starts blushing all over again. 

She turns on the front steps to make sure that Cat has followed, and she has. Cat’s grumbling as she juggles her phone and bags, but even with her clothing ruined, she still looks impossibly glamorous. Kara opens the front door and offers a silent thanks to her old gods that she finally got around to doing some chores the previous day.

“So the bathroom is just at the top of the stairs,” Kara says, slipping her glasses down her nose a little and checking for traces of her erstwhile flatmate. Mercifully, he hasn’t crawled home from whichever all-night rave or unfortunate girl caught his attention this time. “I’m guessing you have some options in your bags, but I can get you something else from my room if you need it. The towels are clean, use anything you need. You could shower! I mean, if you wanted.”

“Getting rid of this coffee stain will be fine,” Cat answers, seemingly amused again at Kara’s nervous babble. There’s a glance at Kara’s mouth that lasts a beat too long, leaving Kara wiping nervously at her lips for any errant chocolate milk.

The hallway is narrow, with the kitchen at the end, the stairs to one side and the door into the living room facing those. Kara wishes she’d had the foresight to superspeed that door closed. God knows what condition Mike left it in before staggering out some time after Kara went to bed last night.

“Oh, it’s not coffee,” Kara explains before she can catch herself. “So uh, the stain won’t be too bad.”

“What is it?”

“Chocolate milk?”

Cat turns away, apparently at a loss for sarcastic remarks. Maybe too many have piled up at once. “At least tell me it’s organic?” she calls back over her shoulder as she heads for the stairs.

Kara nods furiously.

The moment Cat’s out of sight, Kara presses her head against the wall, hard enough to make the plaster crack ominously. For a moment she’s tempted to call Alex and whisper-scream down the phone at her, but knowing her luck every word would be overheard. 

Instead she darts into the kitchen and raids the fridge for something she can offer, finding only some sparkling water and a sad looking lime. She really needs to do some grocery shopping, but it’s hard to get motivated when most of it ends up eaten by her idiot roommate. 

As she hears the click of the bathroom door reopening, Kara also picks up the telltale jangle of house keys at the front door. Oh no, this is not happening. Any hope she has of salvaging this chance second meeting is toast if those two people should meet on the stairs, but Kara can’t think of a way to avoid that. 

“Keira?” Cat is going to make it back to the hall first, so Kara is right there waiting.

“I apologize,” she begins. “Not just for before but for what’s about to-”

“Honey, I am hooooooooome!”

“Mike, please don’t-”

“Kara, I know you’re going to be mad at me, but I ate the last of your yoghurt before I went out.” He doesn’t seem to notice another person is standing there with them. “But I did you a solid. That’s how you say it, right? A solid? Because it tasted kind of funny.”

“I… didn’t have any yoghurt,” Kara replies, grabbing him by the elbow and nudging him towards the living room with a little more force than she’d risk on a human. “But I guess that explains where the mayonnaise went.”

“I was just-”

She closes the living room door on him.

“I am so sorry,” Kara begins again. “He’s a moron, and I have been trying to civilize him. Or evict him.”

“Don’t be. It’s nice not to be recognized for once,” Cat answers, her voice smooth and the half-smile from the bookstore back in place. Her blouse has been changed for a tight gray t-shirt that looks amazing with the leather jacket and jeans. Taking in the full effect, Kara is rendered speechless for a moment.

“Sparkle,” she blurts out eventually. “I have some. Water? That sparkles. If you’d like?”

“No thank you,” Cat over-enunciates, eyes widening a little at Kara’s frazzled behavior. “I’ll just be going. Thank you for your… hospitality.”

“Sure.” Kara manages to open the front door and let her out without further incident, offering a dorky little wave as Cat turns at the bottom of the steps. The wave isn’t returned, and Kara figures that just compounds the misery of it. She shouldn’t be allowed out in public.

Closing the door, she leans against it and groans at her own lack of smoothness.

“Can I come out now?” Mike calls out from the living room.

“No!” Kara shouts back at him. It’s like living with an overgrown toddler. She’s just pushing away from the door to change and head back to work, when there’s a powerful knock behind her back. Whipping the door open again, she’s stunned to see one Cat Grant has returned. 

“I left one of my bags,” she explains, looking inconvenienced all over again. Kara stands aside while Cat marches back upstairs. As she closes the front door, not all the way, Kara’s left wondering when exactly she became the doorman of her own home. She doesn’t have long to think about it, because moments later the footsteps are returning.

“Got everything?” Kara asks as Cat approaches her for the last time. 

“Mmm,” Cat confirms, and suddenly Kara is aware of just how narrow this hallway is; it’s almost claustrophobic. They’re barely inches apart, and as Cat gives her one last searching look, it feels strangely intimate. Her perfume is clouding Kara now, delicate and expensive and something from another world. 

“It was so nice to meet you,” Kara whispers. “Weird but super nice.”

“Oh, for God’s-” Cat leans in and kisses her, right on the lips. Her lips are soft and _oh dear God those famous lips from like a hundred magazine covers are touching Kara’s and she skipped chapstick this morning and oh oh oh-_

All too soon the kiss ends. Cat takes hold of Kara’s chin and wipes traces of her lipstick from Kara’s lip with a deft sweep of her thumb. 

“Super nice? Really?” Cat asks, opening the door herself this time.

“Well, the sparkle bit was worse, honestly,” Kara admits, blushing so hot she thinks her face may actually be on fire this time. 

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” The flash of fear on Cat’s face is genuine. Even if Kara is no real critic of acting ability, she can almost always tell what people are feeling.

“I don’t think anyone would believe me anyway,” Kara points out, barely suppressing a laugh. “Is it okay if I tell myself sometimes? If I believe it?”

“Knock yourself out,” Cat answers, not unkindly, and just like that she’s gone.

Kara touches her lips to make sure that really just happened, and sure enough they’re still tingling faintly from the excitement. The buzz of her phone means Hank has probably gotten bored covering for her, so with just a little bit of illicit superspeed, Kara is changed and on her way back to work.

* * *

Two days pass and the August rain settles in, leaving Kara feeling a little gloomier than she has any right to be. It does drive more people into the shop though, whether sheltering from the weather or dreaming of somewhere that the sun actually shines, it’s good for business. Even Hank is humming a contented tune under his breath at being kept busy for a change.

Kara’s alone in the stockroom when the phone rings, the retro trill of the landline making her smile as she goes to pick it up.

“Hello, Far Off Places,” she greets her caller.

“Oh yes, are you that funny little shop on the Portobello Road?” Oh fun, one of those posh English grannies who like to ring with odd questions, mostly for the stores that occupied the space before Kara’s did. 

“Yes, that’s us,” Kara replies, sifting through a pile of Zagat guides that need to be shelved. “How can I help, ma’am?”

“An American,” the woman remarks. “You know that ma’am habit makes a girl feel old.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Kara apologizes, because of course she can’t help herself. “Sorry. Were you looking for a particular book?”

“Not a book, no.” Kara rolls her eyes. Here it comes. Someone who left their dry-cleaning here ten years ago, or bought a sewing machine just after the war. “Is there a woman there by the name of Keira?” 

“Wait, Keira?” Only one person has ever called her that. “Is this… _Miss Grant_?!”

There’s an honest-to-God chuckle down the line. “Busted,” Cat groans. “How did you like my accent?”

“I thought the Duchess of Windsor was calling me!” Kara laughs right along with her. “You sounded about 30 years older, too.”

“My dialect coach works wonders. I did actually track down your home number, but that disturbed manchild who lives with you seemed incapable of taking a message. I mentioned my name and he actually meowed at me.”

“I really don’t have an excuse for him,” Kara groans. “Can I apologize again?”

“No need to repeat yourself,” Cat scolds just a little. “You’ll forgive me calling, but I wanted to put your mind at rest. My blouse has been saved by the hotel cleaners, and I haven’t been put on the Goop hitlist. I thought you might like to know that.”

“I would.” Kara nods even though Cat can’t see her. “I mean, I do.”

“Anyway, I have a tedious day ahead so I thought I’d call one of the few people I know here in London, and spread the joyous news. Thank you, Keira.”

“It’s actually Kara?” She hates the way her voice rises on that, like even she isn’t sure of her real name. “And you know, if your day is tedious, I could bring you some… well some books, I suppose. Or a chocolate milk. I really feel like you missed out by letting your shirt get all of the last one.”

Her heart is pounding in her chest like it’s going to try exiting via her ribs at any moment. Kara can’t believe she just kind of sort of imposed herself on the incredibly famous actress on the other end of the line. The one who kissed her, Kara’s last shivering scrap of courage reminds her. So technically maybe she just kind of asked Cat out.

“Well,” Cat muses. “That’s a distinct improvement on ‘sparkle’.” Oh God, she remembers that. It’s not just a fevered repetition in Kara’s mortified dreams. I don’t suppose you’ll be anywhere near the Ritz this afternoon? I should be done by four.”

“Four,” Kara repeats. “At the Ritz. The hotel?”

“No, the pizzeria,” comes the instant reply. “Just tell reception you’re here to see Ms Woolf.”

“As in Virginia?” Kara is baffled. “Do you want me to leave the books with this Ms Woolf?”

“It’s an alias.” Kara doesn’t miss the faint clicking of Cat’s tongue, impatience no doubt. “It stops the press being able to confirm where I’m staying. I suppose I don’t need to stress how much-”

“I can keep a secret, Miss Grant. I promise,” Kara answers, and if only it wouldn’t prove her wrong to give the best possible example of that. “I-”

“They’re calling me in,” Cat groans. “I’ll see you at four.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye, and Kara stares at the phone for a long minute. She casts aside the stock she’s been checking, not even caring when most of it misses the box she’s trying to dump it all in. She has to get it right this time. No spilled drinks, prepared conversation that shows how well-traveled and fun she can be, and no interruptions from idiots who think an entire jar of mayo is a snack. 

Kara can do this. She can absolutely hang out with a movie star. And if those are butterflies in her stomach, well who can blame her? Striding out to tell Hank she’s taking the rest of the day off, Kara can’t help feeling like something wonderful is happening. There’s only one way to find out. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting at the Ritz, and a dinner with Kara's merry (wo)men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @krystalgoderitch and @reginalovesemma for eyes on this chapter!

The Ritz doesn’t seem so intimidating when approached from the side, and when Kara comes up from the Underground onto Piccadilly, she reminds herself that it’s just a building. She’d much rather disappear into the quiet expanse of Green Park, if she were here for any reason other than seeing Cat. Kara checks the bouquet she grabbed on impulse from the florist next door to her bookshop, the sunflowers making her smile as she crosses the road.

It’s a little before the evening rush hour so the offices and stores haven’t spilled all their staff out for the day, but the tourists are roving the pavements in throngs, chattering and confused and bossy in turn. Kara weaves her way through them with practiced ease, lucky she doesn’t feel it when there’s an errant foot treading on hers, or an elbow to the side when a backpack swings from a shoulder.

Stepping inside the heavy doors, held open by a liveried doorman of course, Kara is stunned at the antique silence that greets her. The high ceilings and cream walls, gilded edges at tasteful intervals, could be a church or museum just as readily as a hotel. The noise and smell and chaos of the city suddenly seem light years away, and with faltering steps, Kara makes her way through the long, carpeted foyer towards what has to be the reception desk.

Her bright yellow dress that seemed so fun when she slipped it on seems garish now amongst the muted tones. She feels louder than the room itself, dropping her voice to a whisper as she leans in to address the clerk.

“I’m here to see Ms Woolf?”

“Well she’s not in her suite,” the man replies, staring at her as though she must surely be lost. “But if you head up to the third floor, I imagine you’ll find her there.”

“Third floor,” Kara repeats, because that’s apparently all the help she’s getting as he picks up the phone she didn’t hear ringing. “Right.”

She gets into the elevator and hits the button for three. Just as the doors are closing, a dark-haired woman in a tight black dress slips in and hits three again for good measure. Kara smiles the half-smile she’s learned to use here in London, one of acknowledgement but no invitation. Back home, both in Midvale or Krypton, she would have struck up conversation about the fact that they’re heading to almost the same destination. Now she knows better than to be the overbearing visitor.

It still seems like a coincidence when they exit the elevator and both turn in the direction of the huge poster of Cat, promoting her latest movie. Huh. Not exactly the private tete-a-tete that Kara expected when using aliases. Perhaps the hotel is just a little too welcoming.

Just like Kara, this dark-haired woman stops to fumble in her purse, only she withdraws her phone and a leather-bound notepad. A door opens just next to the poster.

“Are you the last group?” A harried young man in a suit asks them. “I’m Derek, blah blah, you know the drill. You get five minutes each, ten if you actually have an interesting question. Cat will see you first, blondie. She has a meeting to get to.”

Kara opens her mouth to ask a question, but they’re being ushered into a suite of some kind, a hallway within a hallway that’s clearly for waiting in. Derek disappears behind a heavy cream-colored door and it’s just the two of them left behind.

“You’re new,” her companion remarks. “Did someone tell you to bring her flowers? Like, as a hazing?”

“Hazing?”

“When I started at the Mirror they were like, Siobhan you have to take a box of donuts to interview Angelina. Joke’s on them: she was starving. I got a two-page exclusive, and that’s how I ended up at UK Vogue. Who do you write for?”

“Uh, write?” If Kara could sweat, she’d be soaking through her clothes about now. She’s clearly misunderstood something really important and she has no idea what to do.

“Well, you don’t have a camera crew, so I’m assuming you’re a real journalist?”

“Right, blondie?” Derek is back, and he’s waving Kara through. “I’ve lost my damn list, so you’d better not be some kind of stalker.” He eyes the bouquet warily.

“Oh, these?” Kara laughs, and she sounds a little crazy. “These aren’t for… you thought I would? No, I have a funeral. After this. Combining both.”

“A funeral,” Derek repeats back at her, frowning at the sunflowers and yellow dress. “Well, aren’t you festive? What’s your mag, so I can tick you off later?”

“I’m Kara Danvers. Miss Grant… Cat… she actually invited me.”

“Oh she likes to handpick some of her press,” Derek agrees, nodding like he’d thought of it himself. “I know she’s from Vogue, so which one are you?”

“Um.” Kara flips frantically through a mental dentist’s waiting room of every magazine she’s ever read. “Wired?”

“Wired.” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and lets a shuddering sigh escape, one that comes from his very soul it seems. “She’s trying to kill me. What Wired readers will want to know about an 18th century French peasant is beyond me, but come on. We’ll let Cat have her fun.”

“Peasant?” Kara groans. She should have guessed from the Les Mis-style poster outside. “Maybe there’s been a mistake.”

“Ask some questions, write it or don’t,” Derek says, opening the door. Ultimately the promise of seeing Cat in person again makes Kara pretty sure whatever mortification comes next will be worth it. She takes a couple of faltering steps, before marching right in as though she has every right to be there.

“Cat, this is Karla from Wired,” Derek announces. “I know I’ve been sitting in all day, but this one looks almost sane, and I desperately need to pop out to-”

“Enough.” Cat waves a hand in dismissal, wiggling her fingers in distaste. “Boy, go. Girl, stay.” Derek mutters something rather unpleasant under his breath as he goes, and Kara tells herself she didn’t hear it.

“Listen, clearly I misunderstood-” Kara begins, but Cat gestures for her to sit.

If Cat was beautiful the other day, this is something else entirely. Gone are the casual clothes meant for shopping, and instead she’s in a perfectly-tailored dress that combines black with subtly colored silks that Kara immediately wants to trace with her fingers. Her loose curls have been teased and styled, and full makeup is in place, even if the look is meant to be as natural as possible. Strappy sandals, a blazer draped over the chair, and some wild statement jewelry complete the look. Kara thinks she knows now what it must feel like to be in the presence of royalty.

“Are those for me?”

“Well, that’s a little presumptuous?” It’s stalling for time, but Cat’s slow grin says she sees right through it. “Okay, fine.” It’s only then Kara looks around the room and sees the dozens of elaborate bouquets. Clearly this is some kind of receiving room, and everyone else had the same unoriginal idea as Kara. “I’ll just take them back home and brighten up my house instead.”

“No, no,” Cat insists, bending the fingers of both hands in invitation. “Those are beautiful, and I want them. I don’t generally allow them in my own rooms, but I’ll have my assistant take them up. Everyone else’s stay down here.”

“You don’t have to humor me-”

“Everything okay in here?” Derek pops back in.

“Yes!” Kara squeaks, startled by his sudden reappearance. “So um, how would you say technology shaped your approach… to… the film?”

Cat smiles at Kara’s obvious discomfort. Clearly this is her entertainment for the day. “It didn’t. Not many iPhones during the French revolution.”

“Ri-right,” Kara tries to recover, wishing Derek would hurry up and leave again. “But you know, history. How did… not having technology make it harder?”

“Well,” Cat relaxes into the answer. “It was a welcome break from the internet. I didn’t realize how reliant I am on my phone until I was leaving it in my trailer all day.”

“You didn’t hide it in a pocket?”

“No, when I inhabit a character, I try to live as close as possible to her life,” Cat continues. They both heave a sigh of relief when Derek wanders off, distracted by whatever he’s tapping at on his phone. “I’m sorry!” Cat hisses. “When I get out of here, I swear we can have a drink in the lobby bar. I thought I’d be free by now, but there was an incident with one of my beloved co-stars.”

“It’s fine.” Kara waves it off. “I should go, though-”

“No, have your ten minutes. I could do with some less irritating company. The ‘journalist’ from the Sun kept asking me if I’d ever done porn. It’s been an exhausting day.”

“Have you?” Kara can’t help asking. “No, wait. That’s an awful question. And who cares if you have? Which I’m sure you haven’t but…”

“I’ll see you in the bar.” Cat changes her mind, and thank God her smile is still fond. “Are there many more out there?”

“Just Vogue,” Kara says, standing to leave. She thrusts the flowers towards Cat, who accepts graciously, and dips her head to inhale gently.

“Beautiful,” she calls them again, flicking her eyes back towards Kara on the last syllable. Kara practically skips out of the door. Siobhan pushes past her, already fawning over Cat, and Kara is left in the anteroom with Derek.

“Thanks,” she tells him, ready for a sharp exit.

“Rest of the cast are through here,” he explains, guiding Kara towards another door. “Take as long as you need.”

Kara almost curses under her breath, and wonders just how she’s going to get out of this mess politely.

 

* * *

 

 

“There you are,” Cat sighs, sipping from an almost-finished martini. She waves a waiter down and signals for two more. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Meeting your beloved co-stars,” Kara admits, too exhausted to be nervous now. She takes a seat in the discreet little booth with its high back and almost total privacy. “They didn’t seem to notice or care that I’m not a reporter.”

“You’re all just moving bits of audience, didn’t you know?” It obviously tickles Cat to have put Kara through this mini ordeal. “Now, about this evening. Scott’s will hold a table for me, of course, but if you’re vegan or something I can improvise.”

“Not vegan,” Kara reminds her. “Chocolate milk, remember?”

“Not a sophisticated palate then,” Cat muses, scrolling on her phone. “I really draw the line at Hard Rock Cafe, but there has to be something in between for two Americans out on the town?” Kara still can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Oh crap,” she says before she can stop herself. “It’s my… oh, I really can’t. I have this thing, with you know, people?”

“What a convincing excuse.” Cat rolls her eyes. “You could have said no in the first place, Kara. I’m not that much of a diva.”

“Really?” Kara can’t help but tease. It’s almost a kamikaze impulse at this point. “When I get nervous, it just comes out funny. My sister. It’s her birthday. And while she’d probably forgive me after the fact, if I told her where I was and who I was with, I think that makes me a crappy sister if I blow off her dinner. I mean, she’s been my sister most… my whole life. And you seem really nice-”

“Super nice.” Cat has a tease of her own.

“Right, that,” Kara acknowledges. “And so pretty, and funny! I did not expect you to be funny. Why don’t you do comedies? You really should. But that’s not the point.”

“The point is you’re having dinner with your sister. And friends?”

“All our friends, yes.” She nods.

“And is it the kind of formal dinner where an unexpected guest would ruin the whole thing? Or is it fairly casual about plus ones?”

“Oh, totally casual,” Kara says, feeling like she’s missing something. “Wait, are you saying… you can’t be. You don’t mean you want to…?”

“If you’re not too embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“How could anyone be?”

“You’d be surprised,” Cat warns. “Not everyone is good with heightened attention.”

Kara swallows, hard. She’s spent most of her life on this planet trying not to draw attention to herself. This might be one of the dumbest ideas she’s ever had, but that doesn’t appear to be stopping her. She slowly pulls her phone from her purse, and makes a show of dialling Alex.

“Hey,” Kara greets her after two rings. Alex never keeps her waiting. “Can you run it past James that I’m bringing a guest tonight?”

“Hilarious,” Alex groans, and there’s a muffled sound in the background that sounds like a rugby team being put through its paces. “Why are you really calling?”

“I am bringing someone.” Kara grits her teeth just a little. “To dinner. Tonight. Bringing a girl. So can you warn everyone, in case they get it into their heads to embarrass me?”

“Oh wow, Kara, really?” Alex covers the phone and Kara could swear she hears a squeal. “Okay, sure. You’ll be on time?”

“Always am,” Kara doesn’t break eye contact with Cat the whole conversation, and gets a nod of approval as two martinis are set in front of them. “See you at 7.”

“Are you going to need a second?” Cat asks, raising a finger to ask the waiter to hold on. Kara responds by plucking the olive from her glass and downing it in one. gulp It won’t have much effect, but there’s something comforting in the act of it.

“Three olives, please,” Kara requests, and the waiter departs as silently as he arrived. “So apart from me, and that jerk from the Sun, how was your day?”

Cat looks almost stunned to be asked. Clearly she was expecting a different line of conversation.

“That’s what you want to talk about? How my day went?”

“Is that boring?” Kara wrings her hands a little, folding her fingers around each other to contain her nerves. “I mean, maybe you’d rather talk about your premiere, or what it’s like to work with Sandra Bullock, I just didn’t want to assume-”

“No, we don’t need to talk about Sandy,” Cat says, dismissing the very idea with an elaborate flick of her wrist. “My day was tedious, but it’s looking up. I have dinner plans, you see.”

“With great company?” Kara jokes. “How long are you in London this trip?”

“A few more days. My son is joining me tomorrow, and we have a trip to… well, some vacation planned. Before I head to Budapest.”

“You travel a lot?”

“Trying to drum up more business?” Cat asks, with that soft laugh that makes Kara feel a little dizzy. She’s never heard Cat laugh like that in any of her movies, half of which she’s mainlined on Netflix since meeting her, the other half already in Kara’s sprawling DVD collection. “I like your approach.”

“No, I just love to travel and not everyone gets the chance. I thought we could compare notes. Although I don’t think I’ll be staying at many hotels like this.” Kara gestures to the quiet opulence around them. “But if you ever need a hostel in New Zealand, I’m absolutely your girl.”

“Are you?” Cat seizes on the words. “Anybody’s girl? This James, for example…”

“What? N-no!” Kara sputters. “I mean, we dated, technically. But we’re just better as friends. And before you ask, nothing is going on with Mike either. I’m just helping him find his place in the world, nothing more.”

“The meowing roommate,” Cat recalls. “No women have laid claim either?”

“Not recently.” Kara lifts her chin just a little, strangely proud that Cat has recognized that in her. It “I’ve been focusing on myself for a while.”

“Sounds nice. I have too, although the press refuse to believe it. If I so much as make eye contact with someone at an awards ceremony, and of course I _have_ to be sleeping with all my co-stars. I know I’m irresistible, but they should give me some credit for taste.”

“Does this mean nothing happened between you and the dragon in your last movie? Because I thought the chemistry was there, honestly.”

“So you’ve seen my work,” Cat pounces. “But you know how it is with those CGI types. It’s hard to build something solid.”

“I can imagine.” Kara nods with her most sincere fake sympathy. “This is the best martini I’ve ever had.”

“Another?” Cat has barely touched her second.

“Not yet,” Kara declines. “I don’t think we’re going to need it, do you?”

 

* * *

  

The third martini is a great idea, Kara realizes. Cat gets way more expressive after three, talking with her hands and leaning in to emphasize her points. That also seems to include touching Kara whenever a story really needs to be told a certain way. Patting her forearm, grabbing her wrist, and even at one point brushing her hair from her eyes, all in the name of demonstrating some anecdote or other. If Kara’s powers included self-combustion, the building would be ashes by now.

When it’s time to leave for dinner, Cat grumbles about her car service, but Kara takes the initiative and walks them right out onto Piccadilly, hailing a cab in seconds. She gives James and Lucy’s address in Notting Hill and settles into the seat beside Cat, reaching across to pull her seat belt into place when Cat doesn’t bother with it.

“Oh,” Cat gasps as the belt presses against her. “Wait, is this a taxi?”

“Quicker than waiting for some limo,” Kara points out. “But we can arrange it for the way back later.”

“I don’t drive around in a limo,” Cat scoffs. “It’s a perfectly modest Bentley, thank you.”

“I think that’s an oxymoron. Listen, everyone will be cool, I’m sure.” She glares at the taxi driver who’s looking more at them in the rearview mirror than at the road. “But if they get embarrassing, please give them a pass. It’s not every day someone like you comes to dinner.”

“Kara.” Cat takes her hand as though it’s something they do every day. The pressure of her fingers clasping Kara’s is light and even, just enough to let Kara know it’s there. “I’m just a person. And I’m sure your friends will be just as charming as you.”

“I’m… I’m charming?” Kara’s throat is dry suddenly.

“Mmm.” Cat smiles at her, and for a moment it looks like she’s going to lean in. Then the sharp bend of the huge roundabout at Hyde Park Corner slides Kara back to her own side of the seat. Probably for the best; she has to be misreading this.

They don’t talk much for the rest of the short drive, other than Kara answering a few questions about the buildings they pass, and about how long she’s lived in London. All too soon they’re pulling up at the house.

Opting for the rip-off-the-band-aid approach, Kara throws a twenty at the driver and marches up the path, with Cat following right behind. James is the one to open the door, greeting Kara with a hug and trying way too hard to play it cool.

“James, this is Cat,” Kara says, stepping aside so he can get a good look.

“So you’re Cat… Holy shit!”

“SAG prefers I stick to Grant, but sure, I’ll take it,” She shakes his hand with practiced grace, smiling just a bit less genuinely than she had been with Kara. “What a lovely home you have.”

“Wow!” James gives Kara a look that says she is not getting out of there tonight without some serious explaining . “Come in, come in. I’d give you the tour, but I think Lucy would rather do that.”

“Lucy’s your wife?” Cat asks, following James into the living room like she’s been here a hundred times before. She’s already shrugging off her blazer, which James accepts as though it might disintegrate at his touch.

“Not for lack of trying,” Lucy snarks as she wheels herself in from the kitchen. “Still fiancée for now, though. Fuck me, you’re Cat Grant.”

“I get that a lot.” Cat is unflappable, and Kara can’t help really, really liking that about her. Without prompting, Cat avoids the mistake of bending or stooping to talk to Lucy in her wheelchair, instead greeting her with the same firm handshake she offered James. “I brought some wine for the table,” she adds, and Kara offers up the bag the hotel had provided for Cat when she insisted on not showing up empty-handed. Inside is a bottle of red that Kara would guess cost more than the monthly mortgage payment on this house.

Lucy appraises the bottle with a look that suggests she knows exactly how much it cost. “Screw the table,” she announces. “Let’s get this breathing and the four of us can treat ourselves before the invasion.”

“Alex and Maggie are not an invasion,” Kara counters. “Tell me Hank agreed to come out this time.”

“He is, and you’re not the only one bringing a girl.” Kara flushes at her own words being parroted back at her. She barely dares look at Cat, but a moment later Cat’s hand is on her bicep, squeezing lightly.

“Being called a girl is a new development,” Cat tells them, almost conspiratorial. “I don’t hate it.”

The doorbell rings, shrill enough to make Kara jump. Cat’s grip tightens for a moment, but she doesn’t let go. Alex lets herself in, too impatient to wait for someone to greet her. It’s an improvement on her occasional habit of kicking down doors when people take too long for her liking.

“Okay Kara, who’s the poor fool that agreed to go out with you?” Alex teases, only to be struck dumb at the sight of Cat, and presumably the way she trades her grip on Kara’s arm for a possessive arm around Kara’s waist. Beaming like her face might actually crack, Kara enjoys every moment of Alex’s stunned silence. Maggie is rooting around in her pockets for something, nodding at Cat and Kara like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Happy birthday.” Cat finally breaks the spell, and instead of shaking Alex’s hand, she pulls her into a hug. Alex accepts with rigid posture, mouthing _what the fuck?_ over Cat’s shoulder. Kara has to bite the tip of her finger to keep from laughing out loud. “If Alex is the sister, you must be the girlfriend,” Cat continues, and Maggie gives her a brief smile.

“That’s right.” She wriggles out of her leather jacket, still completely oblivious. Alex is staring at her girlfriend like she can’t quite believe her. “So are you one of Kara’s bookshop groupies, or…?”

“Oh absolutely,” Cat answers. “She gave me a book about Budapest that changed my life.”

“And she actually remembered to charge for it,” Hank supplies, having followed in after Alex and Maggie. “Everyone, this is M’gann.”

“Hi.” She’s gorgeous, offering , dressed to the nines in a burgundy cocktail dress that Kara would covet on the rail but never quite commit to buying. As she often does, Kara wishes she could be bolder or more sophisticated in her fashion choices. M’gann rivals Cat in the ease of her style. “You can just call me Megan, no one ever gets the pronunciation right.”

“It’s great to meet you, M’gann,” Kara says, doing her best to copy her inflection, and is rewarded with a smile. “I can’t believe Hank finally brought a date to one of these dinners. And he didn’t make an excuse to skip it in the first place. You must be a good influence.”

“I hope so,” M’gann answers, handing a bottle of wine over to James. “I hope you all like red?”

“Both guests are definitely an improvement on the people who brought them,” Lucy teases, as James goes off in search of the corkscrew again. “Do we need to do the introductions for you, Henshaw?”

“Darling,” Hank begins, only to be interrupted by Kara and Alex ‘oooh’ing at him like teenagers. His glare quickly shuts them up. “This is Major Lane, or Lucy as she prefers these days. Alex here is the birthday girl, and Maggie is her partner. Kara is technically my boss and this… is apparently one of our customers. I thought you’d learned your lesson about that, Danvers?”

“Cat Grant shops at your store?” M’gann blurts out. “Oh crap, I was going to play it cool.”

“Wait, does everyone already know this chick except me? Do you work around here too?” Maggie demands.

“Not that locally, no,” Cat explains, and Kara puts her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. “I move around a lot for work.”

“PR?” Maggie guesses. “Or are you in publishing?”

“Entertainment,” Cat hedges.

“Much money in that?” Maggie asks, as the color drains from Alex’s already pale face. Someone has to get in the way of this car crash, and it may as well be the bulletproof alien. But before Kara can intervene, Cat accepts a glass of wine from James with a wink, and answers for herself.

“About $20 million for my last film,” she says casually. Maggie, having just accepted a glass of her own, chokes on her first mouthful.

“Wait-”

“You know,” Kara interrupts, her voice a little high. “We haven’t even asked James what he’s burning - cooking! - tonight.”

“Well!” James jumps on the chance to play chef. “We might all be more comfortable taking this to the table. Then I can tell you about the guinea fowl we’re having.”

“Smoke alarm’s about to go,” Kara supplies helpfully, because she can hear the buzzing before it activates when nobody else can. Cat’s arm is still around her waist and they’re toting wine glasses, every bit the grown-up couple that goes to dinner parties. “So you might want to check the oven.”

“I’m on it,” James promises. “Luce, show our guests to the banqueting table.”

“Follow me down the ramp, boys and girls,” Lucy commands, and Kara’s expecting that to be the point that Cat slips free of her. She does for all of a second, making Kara’s heart sink, but then her free hand is reaching for Kara’s and their fingers entwine as they make their way out to the dining room.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know it’s weird,” M’gann finishes her story, swirling the remnants of her wine in her glass. “But watching your movies, I always thought we’d be friends if we ever met.”

“Best friends, for sure,” Cat agrees. “I mean, you’re the best-dressed one here.”

“Okay.” James has dished out dessert, but one lonely brownie remains in the tray. “One left. Before Kara tries to snag it based on being- uh, having a fast metabolism, I thought we’d make it interesting.”

“A contest!” Hank announces, rubbing his hands together. Something about having M’gann around has loosened him up from his usual rigid bearing, and Kara is delighted to see it. “Name the terms, Olsen.”

“Well it’s a sad dessert,” Lucy intervenes. “So saddest story wins the brownie.”

“Seems fair.” Hank leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Someone make an opening bid.”

“I’ll take a swing,” Alex volunteers. “There’s the whole thirty years of denying the gay, just to get warmed up. Throw in a mom who thinks I can’t do anything right, and you know, the whole unfortunate relationship with alcohol.” She takes a sip from her water glass. “That and the fact that I’m working in a lab instead of being a real doctor, I think I’m pretty set for that brownie.”

“Not a chance,” Kara interrupts. “I don’t want to play the tragic orphan card, but you guys know I’ll do just about anything for baked goods.” Cat gives her a surprised look and squeezes Kara’s thigh under the table. The tender movement startles Kara, but she carries on. “So yeah. Losing my home as a kid, a business I’m barely keeping afloat, and I’d get into my dating history, but I don’t want to depress you all any more.”

“Nice try,” Maggie scoffs. “But nah, I’m not playing.”

“No?” Alex asks, concerned.

“Oh, I have my crap,” Maggie assures her. “But y’know. It didn’t matter once I met you.” They kiss to a collective ‘awww’, punctuated by Kara making mocking puke noises. Alex flips her off without breaking the kiss.

“Well, I think we’ve got the obvious winner with my useless legs here,” Lucy begins, to groans from the rest of the table. “I mean, it’s bad enough to get blown up a little in Afghanistan, but to do it two days before your tour ends is just pretty pathetic. Oh, and the icing on the cake is that my doctor finally confirmed all the damage definitely means no baby for Jimmy and me.”

“Lucy,” Kara gasps as the room is stunned into silence. They’re all used to Lucy being blunt, but not about something so personal. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, just the latest crappy detail,” Lucy shrugs, accepting Kara’s squeeze of her hand. “But I know for a fact none of you whiners can top that.”

“She’s right,” Hank concedes. “Give her the cake.”

“Wait a minute,” Cat interrupts. “Don’t I get a turn?”

“Seriously?” Kara answers. “You want to go?”

“I’m too competitive not to at least try.”

“Let her speak,” James insists, relieved to take the spotlight off him and Lucy. “The brownie is fair game.”

“Okay.” Cat takes a deep, steadying breath. Kara can’t help picturing her on a yoga mat in some idyllic studio. The image of glowing skin and a sports bra makes Kara flush almost as red as their wine. “So I’ve been on a diet since I was seven years old. Which means I’ve been hungry for most of my life, even when I’ve had the money to treat myself to anything I wanted. I’ve dated some prize assholes, every detail of which has been splashed across the papers and the internet. Most of those details completely invented. Then there’s the one who gave me six good months and my beautiful son. The same moron who keeps suing for full custody because I happen to work for a living.”

The room goes quiet as they realize this isn’t some gag attempt at winning the spare piece of dessert. Cat Grant, movie star, is opening up to them.

“All of which is fine, I suppose. It’s the price of all this. But at some point soon the work I’ve been putting into my looks won’t be enough. There’s nowhere to hide in Ultra 4k whatever-the-hell. That’s when they’ll realize I’m not so much a good actress as I am a famous one. So I’ll be just another sad, middle-aged woman who maybe used to be someone.”

The silence settles like a heavy snowfall, until M’gann picks up her wine glass.

“Not buying it,” she announces, and they all collapse into relieved laughter, including Cat. “You’re just too hot to feel sorry for.”

Hank swipes the cake and eats it in two enthusiastic bites, settling the matter once and for all. It’s nice seeing him so relaxed for a change, and Kara would comment on that if Cat hadn’t just leaned into her side, shaking with laughter. Once Kara realizes that, it’s hard to notice much of anything else at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“Good _bye_ ,” Kara insists for the fourteenth time, dangerously close to carrying Cat back over the threshold in a fireman’s lift. “Lucy, I’ll come by for lunch tomorrow, okay?”

“I’m in court,” Lucy corrects her. “We’ll talk, I promise.”

“Bye!” Cat calls as Kara finally steers her down the steps outside the house. She wants some distance between them and the door, because there’s no way that group of her favorite people is going to hold in their reactions to a strange night for long. Before Kara can get them more than a few steps away, there’s a collective roar of laughter and some high-pitched screaming. To her credit, Cat doesn’t even flinch.

“That was pretty tame for them,” is all Kara can think to say when Cat finally looks at her. Some strong coffee has sobered Cat up a little, and she considers a moment before linking her arm through Kara’s and walking them down the road a little further.

“Where is this?” Cat asks quietly. “In relation to your house?”

“Not far,” Kara tells her, trying to ignore the klaxon in her head set off at what sounds like a proposition. She misses a step as she walks, almost stumbling. “So I haven’t been imagining it?”

“I’ve been trying to tell myself I just need a friend in a strange city,” Cat admits. “But then there was that kiss.”

“Right,” Kara agrees. “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“You are the worst liar I’ve ever seen.” They cross the side street, and Cat trails her free hand towards the wrought iron railings on the other side of them. “What’s behind here?” She asks. “They’re everywhere on these streets.”

“Well it’s private,” Kara points out. “Beautiful gardens - there’s one up there that James and Lucy have a key for. But only people who live in the overlooking houses get access. They’re like…”

“An oasis,” Cat surmises. “That must be quite something in a city this big and noisy.”

“I’m sure privacy is pretty appealing to someone like you.” Kara feels awkward saying it, bringing that status and fame back in between them. “Why are you trusting me?”

“I just am,” Cat replies, grasping the railing. “I know I shouldn’t, my publicist would have me committed, not to mention my manager… but I knew that I could. The very minute I saw you. So this had better not be the moment you tell me you’ve just called the Daily Mirror.”

“No.” Kara shakes her head, looking up and down the otherwise deserted street. It’s rare to have any space in London entirely unoccupied, and she knows the moment must be seized, or be lost forever. Alex is going to kill her, there’s no doubt about it this time, but Kara can feel the unstoppable surge of a bad idea already committed to thundering in her chest. “But I’d like to give you some reassurance.”

“Reassurance?”

Kara slips her arm around Cat’s waist, just as she’d done to Kara back in Lucy’s living room. “Mutually assured destruction,” Kara whispers. For the first time in years, she wants to confide in someone new. Wants the reckless thrill of showing what she can do that others can’t. Dammit, she wants Cat to look at her and think _extraordinary,_ just like Kara does when she looks at Cat. That’s why, in a rush of daring she hasn’t felt for too long, Kara’s levitating them both off the paving slabs and up over the fence. “I’ll keep your secret, and you keep mine. Plus, you totally sounded like you wanted to see inside.”

“Holy shit!” Cat squeals, and the cooler-than-everyone persona dies in that instant. “You can-”

“Yeah.”

“Anything to do with those military friends of yours?” Cat is shrewd, recovering the moment she’s on the ground and honing in on the details as quickly as Kara expected. There’s no deflecting her.

“Alien, actually,” Kara corrects. “I arrived when I was twelve. I didn’t just lose my parents. It was my whole world.”

“I’m so sorry.” Cat reaches for Kara’s hands, taking both of them in her own. “How does someone go through something like that, and come out as lovely as you?”

Kara turns her head to deflect the compliment. “I don’t know about lovely. You’re not freaked out?”

“That is nowhere close to the weirdest first date confession I’ve ever heard,” Cat assures her, tugging gently on Kara’s hands, pulling her closer. “And yes, Ms Needs Confirmation: I did just call this a date.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“You just _flew_.”

“Oh. Right.” Kara sees it now, the chance in front of her. She has no intention of letting it pass by, so this time she’s the one to kiss Cat. Kara actually intends it to be sweet, a little cautious even, in case she’s still somehow not supposed to be doing this. She thinks of those gallery signs that warn _please do not touch the art_ and smirks into the kiss. Before she knows it, they’re kissing like the end of one of Cat’s movies, as though the world almost ended, only to be saved by a push-up bra and a one-liner approved by a focus group.

“We’re not going to get arrested, are we?” Cat murmurs when Kara relents for a moment. “I don’t think you’d like prison.”

“No, but I do live like, two streets away…”

“Not tonight.” Cat shakes her head, and darts in for another kiss. “I don’t want this to be… This isn’t like that. I want to take you on a date, like normal people.”

“Okay,” Kara accepts in an instant. She’d agree to anything right now to keep Cat’s hand where it’s currently resting on Kara’s hip, warm even through her dress. “Do you want to call your car? Or can I interest you in the London sky by night?”

Cat pulls her close. “What do you think?” Another kiss. Kara thinks she might be too giddy to fly in a straight line. “Up, up and away.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's daaaaate night. Although that doesn't mean it's going to go smoothly. A brief love letter to London, too. Most of this fic is.

“You,” Alex lets herself into Kara’s house - and then her kitchen - without bothering to knock. She trades off a box of pastries for the pot of coffee, and pours herself a mug to match Kara’s. “Have got some goddamned explaining to do.”

“Do I?” Kara asks sweetly, still high from barely a minute’s sleep after a late night kiss hovering high above the London Eye and all the twinkling lights along the river. As romance goes, it’s fairly untouchable. She’s just about to tell Alex as much when she realizes it would mean confessing her confession to Cat. Nope. Not before at least one cherry Danish.

“Morning ladies.” Mike shuffles in,inexplicably wearing only a red Speedo. Kara wrinkles her nose as he sniffs at his armpits and bends to retrieve his expired milk from the fridge. “Alex, I was just heading back to bed if you want to join me.”

“Still gay, Mike,” Alex reminds him. “And if I wasn’t, you would have finished the job.”

“Cool.” He gives them a double thumbs up and wanders off. If Kara didn’t want every last one of her pastries, she’d lob one at his back.

“So gimme the dirt,” Alex demands, taking her pain au chocolat and leaving the rest of the box to her sister. “How in the hell did you show up with an Oscar winner last night?”

“Oscar nominee,” Kara corrects. “Golden Globe winner.”

“Was that the night she slapped JLaw?” Alex snorts.

“Different year. Anyway, didn’t Hank tell you? She came by the store, I sold her a book.”

“And asked her out? No way you grew a pair that fast.”

“Hey!” Kara protests. “I’m plenty brave. And no, she called to ask me out, actually. After I, um, spilled my milk all over her on the street and she had to change here and well… it happens! I bet it happens to people every day!”

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Alex says. “But since it involved spilling, yeah, that does sound like you. I’d ask if you put the moves on her, but we both know you don’t have that kind of game.”

“Hey! Again!” Kara wants to blab it all then and there. “And how do you know she didn’t put the moves on _me_ , huh?”

“She. Did. Not!”

“Oh, she did.” Kara nods, folding her arms over her pajama shirt, completely indignant. She’s pursing her lips like the know-it-all kid in school, but hell, she had a date with a movie star last night. She is not the dating disaster that Alex has written her off as. “In fact the first thing Cat asked when we left Lucy’s - thanks for the mortifying screaming by the way - was if she could come to my place.”

“And you turned her _down_?” Alex practically yelps. “Not for nothing Kara, but Cat Grant is on my laminated list of five. Maggie totally won’t mind, so give me her number if you’re just gonna blow it.”

“I didn’t blow it!” Kara stuffs the rest of her pastry in her mouth. “We made out for a bit in this adorable garden, and tonight we have a real date. She wants to treat me right, or whatever.”

Alex stops her teasing and leans across to squeeze Kara’s arm. It’s almost enough to make Kara feel guilty for not admitting her indiscretion.

“Do you have anything to wear?”

“Not really,” Kara admits. “Don’t suppose you want to blow off work and come shopping with me?”

“Dress shopping,” Alex groans. “Yeah, totally my favorite thing. But for you, dater of the stars, I suppose I can be conveniently late to my very boring job.”

“I’ll get dressed.” By the time Alex has finished her coffee, Kara has showered and changed, all at super speed. With a slightly patronizing thumbs up from her sister, Kara is ready. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The restaurant is lit up like something from a Disney movie, all tasteful chandeliers and heavy velvet curtains, and Kara is a little giddy from the moment she arrives. The paparazzi lurking by the curb glance at her and dismiss her in the same split-second. She’s glad, feeling oily under even the briefest attention. She checks her phone for the fifth time, the number she hasn’t dared save as a contact, just one text that tells her to ask for table 63.

It’s all so deliciously cloak-and-dagger. The part of Kara that revels in spy movies and paperback thrillers during plane journeys is embracing the spycraft of it, all in the pursuit of something as simple as dinner. Since Cat - assuming it is Cat and not her assistant - sent the message, Kara’s fingers have been twitching to send anything beyond the ‘okay’ with a smiling emoji that had formed her limited response.

She wants to know what Cat’s been doing, what she’s wearing, if she’s been thinking of Kara at all. Or if this is something Cat has put to the back of her mind until the time for dinner arrives. 8:30 is much later than Kara’s appetite would usually wait for dinner, so she’s already had a large lunch and a pre-dinner around six. It’s only fear of spilling something that gave her patience to wait and put on her new clothes.

Honestly the dress is something of a risk, because green has never really been her color. Alex insisted, or maybe had just run out of patience by the time they left behind anywhere affordable and laid siege to the Womenswear floor at Selfridges. The straps are tiny but fit securely on Kara’s shoulders, and the neckline dips a little more than she would generally wear, but that’s nothing compared to the daring split on the thigh. Still, if she can’t show off a little skin now, to someone who knows that her body is something from another world, Kara doesn’t know when she can.

The maitre’d gives her a quizzical look, but clearly the hundreds of pounds dumped on her credit card mean that the dress at least passes for acce, especially with the strappy heels that Kara has just about mastered walking in. She follows the brisk little man across the front section of the restaurant, and only when they skirt the large French windows on the side does Kara realize they’ll be eating on the terrace.

Outside there are a handful of tables, only one table for two in the center is dressed and lit by a beautiful candle. The rest are bare of anything but tablecloths, the terrace all but deserted. Discreet heaters swirl warm air around the stone floor, talking the faint chill from a so-called summer evening in London.

Kara forces herself to catalog every last detail. She drinks in the sparkle of the glasses and the faint scent of jasmine in the air. Closing her eyes for just a second, adjusting her glasses, she wants to be prepared for the sight of Cat waiting at their table. Judging by the way Kara’s supposedly unstoppable heart skips in her chest, she was right to steel herself for this moment.

Where Kara has been bold in green, Cat has softened herself in something gauzy and cream-colored and perfectly fitted to her figure. Her arms are bare, save for the subtle glint of gold at her wrists. Her hair is straighter but perfectly styled, falling in her face for a moment as she turns towards the maitre’d and signals for something with one raised finger. A bucket is produced, the silver glowing in the light, and as Kara takes her seat, two glasses of champagne are poured. As quickly as they appeared, the restaurant staff melt away.

“You came.” From anyone else it might sound anxious, or relieved. Cat is pleasingly smug, the winner of a bet only she knew she was making. “Didn’t feel like just dropping out of the sky tonight?”

Kara glances around out of habit. Her hearing - and a quick peer over her glasses with x-ray vision - confirms no one is close enough to overhear. Cat knows how to guarantee privacy, at least.

“I don’t do that sort of thing much,” Kara admits. “At all, really. I’m surprised I remembered how, honestly.”

“Glad you’re telling me that now and not while we’re swooping over the Thames, I suppose.”

“I’ve almost never dropped anyone. My sister, once.” Kara smiles at the memory of Alex’s creative storm of curse words. The smile only broadens when she looks over at Cat, who returns the smile with extra wattage. “You look amazing. I know people probably tell you that all the time, but I just had to say it. Like, _amazing._ ”

“So do you,” Cat says, wriggling a little in her seat. “I’d guess the designer, but I don’t want you remembering I’m just some shallow actress. Not tonight.”

Kara swallows audibly. That sounds like someone has plans for this evening. Plans she very much wants to be a part of.

“I already know you’re not shallow.” Kara reaches for her glass, surprised at how her hand isn’t trembling at all. She should be nervous, hopelessly out of her depth. Instead, something about Cat puts Kara completely at ease, has her believing that she deserves to be here. So she bites back a comment about her own flaws, determined not to sell herself short for this one night at least. “Did you have a good day filming?”

“A little dull,” Cat tells her. “But you made for a nice distraction. I missed my mark three times wondering what you’d order. Whether it would be boorish for me to step in and tell you what I like here, steer you towards it. My director would curse your name, if she knew you were the cause.”

“Female director?” Kara has looked up the project twice already, and knows every accessible fact about it. “That’s progressive.”

“I try to be, wherever possible.” Cat takes a long sip of her drink. “Starting out I had to make a lot of compromises, but when my name is what gets the movie made, well… I get to make a few demands.”

“I really like that about you.”

“That I’m demanding?”

Kara sets her drink down, blushing at the thought of what else Cat might _demand_ of her before the night it out. “That too. The waiter is coming.” A moment later the door opens just enough for him to slip through. “You should order for me. I trust you.”

If there’s a comment Cat wants to make about that, she doesn’t get a chance to express it before the waiter is at their table, asking for their orders with a serious smile and a hint of an accent. Cat switches effortlessly to French. Kara’s ear for languages has never quite tuned into the French language, but she catches some snippets about Tunisia and a film Cat shot there, and realizes the waiter is being thoroughly charmed. It might be enough to provoke a pang of jealousy, if Cat’s full attention didn’t land hungrily on Kara the very second he departs.

“Now, where were we?” Cat asks, reaching across the small table to take Kara’s waiting hand. “I believe I was about to ask you how the world of travel books is going?”

“I wouldn’t know. I spent half the day shopping for this dress, and the other half trying to work out how to make my hair look like this. I had no idea a blowout was such an involved process.”

“It was worth it,” Cat assures her. “The appetizers won’t be long, but first I wanted to do this.”

She leans across the table, and presses a lingering kiss to Kara’s lips. Only the quickest turn of Cat’s head suggests she checked the coast was clear, the rest of the venue hidden away behind those heavy velvet curtains on the windows. It goes to Kara’s head quicker than the champagne bubbles, and she almost bends the wrought iron table when she grips it. It’s all that keeps her from grabbing Cat and pushing her down on the table right then and there.

For the first time in her life, Kara wants so intensely that she’s considering walking out on food. Not just any old food either, but some of the finest in the world, if the internet is to be believed. She’d turn her back on all of it for a cold Happy Meal and a half hour of total privacy with this woman. When Cat pulls away, sitting almost demurely back in her seat, the glint in her eyes suggest she might just feel the same.

“Another?” Cat asks, swallowing the rest of her champagne. Kara simply nods, and presses her thighs together.

 

* * *

 

The meal does little to dampen Kara’s insistent need to touch and explore. The way Cat’s lips pout around anything that tastes delicious, the flicker of her tongue against something tart, it’s enough to drive Kara crazy. That’s nothing compared to the moment Cat decides to share exotic fruit by feeding it to Kara with her fingers, leaving her in real danger of levitating off the ground and never being able to come back down. If she didn’t know exactly what floating felt like, Kara would swear she’s already doing it.

They’re just a little impatient as they make their way through the exquisite small courses, the menu varied but coherent to Kara’s palette, even if she doesn’t understand quite why it works so well. The sensory overload isn’t helping her feel any calmer, and by the time Cat has settled the bill, there’s a tension crackling between them that has to be almost audible.

“My hotel is just across the street,” Cat says. “And the staff are so accommodating, they’ve given me a pass to use their much more private side entrance. I don’t think they’d mind if I loaned it to you.”

“So we’re going. Back.” Kara clears her throat. “To your hotel.”

“No dignitaries in town,” Cat confirms. “So I didn’t even have to fight for the Prince of Wales Suite. Angela Merkel doesn’t fight fair, I should warn you. Don’t get me started on Melania.”

“I always thought she seemed the type,” Kara jokes. “So I can walk you back and then…”

“And then.” Cat fishes the keycard from her tiny, bejeweled purse. “I’m all for public displays in theory, but it would be best if we left as discreetly as possible. I promise, I’ll make the sneaking around worth your while.”

“I think you already know you could ask just about anything of me right now,” Kara points out, rewarded with a quick but open-mouthed kiss for her honesty. It’s gasoline on a flame that’s already threatening to burn out of control. “Can we walk out together? At a respectful, gal pal kind of distance?”

“As far as the front door, yes. But I’ll face the jackals alone. Let them speculate who was really here with me. I spotted at least five married celebrities who’ll be having awkward conversations with their wives in the morning.”

“That’s a little mean, don’t you think?”

“Yes, isn’t it?” That delicious little hint of smugness in Cat’s words again, enough to make Kara grin despite her reservations. They hesitate at the reception area, waiting for their wrap and jacket to be retrieved. Cat clicks her tongue impatiently. “Honestly, I’d just leave without the damn thing but it’s stolen from set. I need it for my morning shoot.”

A braying group of men approach, and another member of staff scuttles off to fetch their jackets. Cat is mostly shielded from view by Kara’s automatic protective stance, and it’s probably just as well when the drunken boors pick up their conversation.

“Anyway,” one hoots at his companions. “The point is it doesn’t matter which actress you pick, you’re onto a sure thing. Especially those Hollywood girls, they’ll do most things for a slice of lettuce and a compliment.”

“You still have to pick,” his friend roars back. “That’s the bloody game!”

“What about that Kardashian girl then?” The first one argues. “We’ve seen the proof.”

“Nah,” his friend continues. Cat looks away from Kara, as if knowing what has to come next. “Got to be an actress. Now what about that Cat whatshername?”

“Christ, she’s getting on a bit.”

“Still, she’s spent so long on her back one more wouldn’t hurt!” Kara knows that she possesses the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, a painful discovery she’s yet to repeat. This is the closest she’s ever come.

Cat folds in on herself a little, wounded by the way they’re talking about her. Any other time Kara would do the same, shrink from confrontation and not risk drawing attention to herself. Instead she turns on the idiots, still shielding Cat from their line of sight.

“Excuse me?” Okay, not the strongest start.

“All right, darling?” The friend responds with a leer that makes Kara’s skin crawl.

“The way you talk about those women - not just actors, but real, live people with feelings? It’s… disgusting.”

“Calm down, love,” the first one chimes in, tugging at the open collar of his shirt. “Just a bit of banter.”

“It’s gross,” Kara persists. “And for your information, not one of those beautiful or talented women you discuss like pieces of meat would even look your way. You… you jerk guys!”

As far as sticking the landing, Kara knows she blew it. The men collapse in further grunts of laughter. Luckily the wait staff have her jacket, and Cat is leading Kara by the elbow towards the door.

“Thank you,” she leans in to murmur. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“I probably made it worse,” Kara groans.

“No, you were very noble. There was a time I would have jumped in myself, but you get tired of the headlines calling you shrill, or unhinged. Shut up and take it. That’s what my publicist would prefer.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara tells her. She truly is, that a force of nature like Cat Grant should be beaten down by behavior like that. “But if you ever need anyone to defend your honor, I’ll work on my threats.”

“Actually?” Cat stops in her tracks. “Screw that.”

She marches right back over to the pack of men, all of whom have at least half a foot on her in height, but Cat is somehow towering in her pale stiletto heels.

“Hey fellas,” she calls out, all effortless charm. “I’m sorry about my friend. She’s one of those uptight feminists, you know?”

“Well, shit.” The first idiot blurts. “You’re-”

“Yes, I am.” Cat only grows in stature as they shrink in the face of her fame. It’s that undefinable quality Kara recognised on their first meeting - that star power - but it’s jarring to see it again after such an intimate evening. “And for the record? I’m one of those uptight feminist types too, even if I do wear heels and sometimes take my clothes off for art. There isn’t enough money in the world to make me take them off for you though, and every last one of the Kardashians is out of your pathetic league as well. Even the second cousins, you walking doses of chlamydia. Have a good night!”

Kara’s in fits of giggles as they spill out into the night, the camera flashes going off like Bonfire Night and the Fourth of July combined. Cat doesn’t flinch, but Kara darts past the Canons and Nikons, glad to be ignored. It’s only then she realizes she could be using her strength and unbreakable body to shield Cat from them. In the panic to get away, Kara didn’t even think to offer.

She looks back to see that Cat has bodyguards, who were clearly lying in wait. They bundle her into a car, which Kara realizes will only do a circuit of the block before pulling back into the hotel.

Just before she ducks out of sight, Cat risks one smoldering glance in Kara’s direction. The plan hasn’t changed because of a little ambush. The moment the car door slams shut, Kara is in motion, darting across the street when there’s a convenient lull in traffic. In her hurry to be there, to actually be with Cat properly after this perfect evening, she almost gets clipped by a speeding BMW. Luckily for the car’s owner, the blow is only glancing.

Despite practically skipping the whole way there, Kara hesitates before seeking out the side entrance, lingering in the street for a few minutes longer than necessary. She has an invitation, and the thought of getting to kiss Cat again - and more - without interruption or checking over their shoulders, is enough to make Kara want to fly straight up and in through the window. She sticks to the pedestrian option, taking the back stairs up to the suite levels, handy brass plaques guiding her along the way.

She raises her hand to knock, and in her excitement it’s just a little too heavy. Thank God for old buildings and their weirdly sturdy doors, because a lesser piece of wood might have splintered under Kara’s knuckles. She’s debating between surging forward for a kiss or hanging back to let Cat initiate, when the door is finally yanked open.

“Now that’s timing,” the tall, silver-haired man in front of her barks. Kara’s brain enters a weird kaleidoscope mode when presented with his very familiar face. Substituting in brown hair, a famous hat, leather jackets and presidential suits. Guns and blasters and that very familiar sourpuss frown. “Say, they sure dress the staff nicely here.”

“I’ll handle it,” Cat trills from behind him, her voice light as ever but her expression somewhere between troubled and wildly apologetic. “You should go call your agent, like you said.”

“Oh, suddenly she wants to talk to the staff. Don’t let her boss you around, kid. If you could take the plates when she’s done with ya. I wouldn’t say no to getting some decent beer up here, either.” He peels off ten pounds from a wad of cash pulled from his pocket and hands it to Kara.

“That’s not her job,” Cat says through gritted teeth. He shrugs and walks away. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t know he would be here.”

“You’re with him,” Kara replies dully. Everything seems to be happening a little further away. “I can’t get him beer, so you’d better actually call room service.”

“Kara, wait-”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Cat pleads, reaching out to touch Kara’s arm. She flinches away, more upset than even she realized. “There must be something I can say…”

“How about goodbye?” Kara suggests. Grabbing the plates, she takes off down the hall. Using a reckless burst of speed, she drops them off at the kitchen and is back on the street in seconds flat. Hopefully nobody will look too closely at their CCTV footage tonight. It’s only in the faux-sanctuary of the bus stop that the first tears hit. Kara sniffles as she roots through her purse for both Kleenex and her Oystercard. Nobody else gives her a second glance; she’s not their first crying mess to ignore, and probably won’t be their last.

 

* * *

 

“Trust me,” James assures her as Kara flits around his kitchen, helping herself to some tomatoes that James hasn’t burned or otherwise ruined yet. “This is the only cure. Plus, if you like my girl best, I win the bet with Lucy. So… no pressure.”

“I don’t think dating is the answer. How does anyone follow Cat Grant? I still can’t believe I’m the only one who didn’t know she’s with that guy...”

“Just give it a try, Kara.” James nudges her with his elbow on the way past to get something from the oven. “You know it would really mean a lot to me, to see you happy again.”

“I know. I’ll try.” She smooths down her pale pink shirt and wonders why she ever thought the burgundy pants were a good match. Still, it’s not like she wants to make that great of an impression. The doorbell rings, right on cue. “She works in radio, you said?”

“Sort of,” James calls back as he heads out to answer the door. “Or a podcast. Something like that.”

“Great,” Kara grumbles to herself. Hopefully the others will arrive soon and save her from this awkward set up.

 

* * *

 

“That… could have gone better,” James says, pouring a brandy for the five of them. Alex and Maggie are bundled up on one armchair, leaving Kara to sprawl on the floor next to Lucy’s wheelchair. James kicks his long legs up on the sofa and reaches out to squeeze Lucy’s hand.

“My favorite part,” Alex says around a snort of laughter, “was when she almost jammed her fork into the socket.”

“This is my future,” Kara groans. “Pity dates with everyone’s crazy work friends and hand-me-downs.”

Maggie chimes in next. “Well, you could have suggested a threesome with Cat and-”

“No!” Kara snaps, propping up on her elbows. “I couldn’t. And you wouldn’t even have known who he was, Maggie. Luce, do I really need to go through with yours on Friday?”

“I have way better taste,” Lucy reminds her. “Don’t give up, Sunny Danvers. You’re our big optimist, remember?”

“Sometimes I wish more stuff could kill me,” Kara says, pulling a cushion over her face.

 

* * *

 

“It was definitely better than Leslie,” Lucy ventures as they walk home from their favorite neighborhood restaurant. “In that at least we had more witnesses.”

Kara takes a turn at wheeling Lucy's chair to give her arms a rest. "If Lena is the best you can do, then don't do it. She was crying about her mean mommy before we finished our appetizers."

“I thought the fact that she worked in tech might be interesting to your alien brain!” Lucy defends her selection, but not with much enthusiasm. James tries not to crack up laughing, and almost succeeds. “I’m sorry we can’t live up to Cat though. You deserve a stupid fairytale, Kara.”

“Well, if only you’d loved me back when I was crazy about you,” Kara reminds her, as they approach James and Lucy’s house. “But no, you had to fall in love with my best friend instead.”

“You can’t really blame her,” James says with an easy smile, stooping slightly to take Lucy in his arms for the walk up the steps rather than pulling the ramp down. Kara folds the chair and sets it inside the door for them. It’s almost honeymoon romantic as James carries Lucy across the threshold, and Kara blinks away fresh tears. She loves them both, and wishes them every happiness. It’s just hard not to want something like that for herself. “You want to come in? I can make cocoa.”

“Nah.” Kara waves them away, into their home that resonates with love and sharing and partnership. “Thanks for trying though, seriously. Let’s just… not try for a while?”

“You got it,” Lucy promises. “Night, Kara.”

“Night.” Kara waits for the door to close and checks the almost deserted streets. There’ll be someone - walking a dog or emptying the bin - but she decides to risk it anyway, zipping home faster than any eye should be able to see. It’s not the thrill she’d hoped for, and she’s almost disappointed to find the house empty. Mocking Mike for something might normally have helped, but lately it seems like nothing will.

Settling down with a bowl of cereal, she starts to channel hop. She hasn’t fired up Netflix in weeks, because it always offers one of Cat’s older films right there on the homepage, no matter how many random things she clicks on. Even the algorithms know how pathetic she truly is. So it’s safer to flick through the cable channels and hope for a comedy that makes her laugh in all the right places.

Instead she lands on Cat’s face, beautiful and covered in very convincing tears. Something Jazz Age and cynical, is all Kara remembers. Cat looks stunning in a beaded flapper dress, a wilting flower in her hair. Kara allows herself ten lingering seconds to stare, not hearing a word of the dialogue, before turning the damn thing off.

 

* * *

 

The best thing about being her own boss, Kara decides, is the freedom to work from home whenever she wants. The shop is just on the corner if she’s needed, and while she used to do all her paperwork in the little office there, it hasn’t felt quite the same since every ring of the bell above the door made her heart skip a beat, _just in case_. As if Hollywood actresses walk into a place like that more than once.

She takes her time fetching a chocolate milk, and even longer picking out a pastry to go with it. They don’t quite get cinnamon swirls right over here, so she settles for a croissant that’s buttery and flaky in all the right places. It’s supposed to make it all the way home, for breakfast over her tax filing, but temptation wins out and Kara is shoving the first bite in her mouth as she approaches her front steps.

Her currently occupied front steps.

“You know,” she blurts after choking down the pastry, “about a century ago, this Scottish guy invented phones. I mean, I read a lot of history when I first got here, and that one stands out.”

“You should have read up on Meucci too,” Cat drawls, pulling her sunglasses down her nose a little with one finger. She looks suprisingly comfortable on the cold stone steps, as though she might drop by this way once a week or so. She’s stunning in tight jeans with a light sweater, and a purse pulled over her shoulder that might be an overnight bag of sorts. Kara thinks she might have come right from Heathrow. Why not ask? She doesn’t know what else to say. She glances round to make sure any passing Londoners are as disinterested as ever.

“Fresh from the airport?”

“First class isn’t what it used to be,” Cat grumbles. “Since I owe you an apology, I thought I’d take my chances with the in-person approach.”

“No apology needed.” Kara bristles, even though she’s been longing for exactly that. She steps over Cat’s legs and up to the front door. “You look well. Good luck with whatever you’re filming.”

“I’m not,” Cat rushes to add, and suddenly she’s behind Kara, close enough for Kara to feel her breath and imagine those fingers gripping her hips. “I have some rare time off, but my ex wouldn’t change things up to let me see Carter. I thought I should finally put things right with you.”

“Why not spend time with your boyfriend?” Kara’s voice is high and tight and girlish in a way she doesn’t care for. She sounds exactly as jealous as she still feels. “I’m sure he could make time. The papers seem to think so.”

“We’re not together.” Even though Kara is still fumbling with her keys, Cat doesn’t let up an inch. “We haven’t been in a while, but he’s one of those ‘old habits’ guys, and he showed up… it blindsided me.”

“I’m sure he could have managed to find his own room.” Kara drops her bundle of keys and snatches them back up. “But you were ashamed enough of being caught with me to let him think I was the help.”

“Kara, that wasn’t about you. I know you’re all out and accepting, but I don’t have that luxury. Bringing a beautiful woman back to my hotel is a huge risk.”

“Oh please.” Kara pushes the door open a little too hard and steps away from Cat, into the safety of the hallway. “Don’t make this about being closeted.”

“You don’t know what they’d do to me. I wouldn’t be able to book summer stock. And I can’t expose my son like that. I’m already close to losing him.”

“Really?” Kara sees the way Cat has her arms wrapped around her torso, almost hugging herself. “This custody thing, it’s bad?”

“Turns out all the money in the world can’t sway a judge who thinks you’re a bad mother.” Cat drops her head forward, her shoulders slumping. “I gave up a movie to fight the court case.”

“When do you find out?”

“Not for another week. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll go.”

It takes all of Kara’s resolve not to reach out and touch Cat, reassure her that someone is in her corner. She probably has a whole team of acolytes to do that for her on the daily. Only, one thing Kara’s noticed in the few times she’s been around Cat, is that she’s rarely around people who aren’t paid to be there. How lonely that must be.

“If I wasn’t here, if I wouldn’t see you,” Kara tries to work out. “What would you have done? Flown back tonight?”

“I could have stayed, tried again. I have an audition in New York next week, can you believe that? I haven’t auditioned in 10 years, but suddenly the director doesn’t know who I am or what I can do.”

“You want to come in? You look like you could use a friend right now.”

“A friend?” Cat looks faintly amused. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Guess so,” Kara sighs, and ushers her into the house. “I can help you prepare for your audition if you like?”

Cat stops right in front of her, touching Kara’s cheek for the briefest second. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Kara giggles so hard she snorts, falling off her sofa and floating just in time to avoid hitting the floor hard. Cat is doubled up on the other side of the couch, shaking with silent laughter.

“God!” She gasps as she gets her breath back. “This is supposed to be the end of the world as we know it, Kara.”

“I’d let Earth take the meteor just to stop the dialogue,” Kara fires back, and she hovers above the stripped wood flooring by an inch or two, showing off.

“That looks like fun.” Cat prods her with a bare toe, designer heels kicked off in the hall hours ago. “Would make it a cinch to cheat at planking.”

“It must be tiring,” Kara answers, smug now as she floats. “Having to work to build muscle. I mean, all that sweat and pain.” She lets her faded Spice Girls t-shirt ride up over her abs. Cat’s attention is instant, and intense.

“You’re like the special effects budget came to life. But this isn’t going to get me that sweet franchise part. I know it’s not Chekov…”

“You never wanted to do theater?” Kara settles herself back on the sofa, closer to Cat than before. Discarded script pages crumple between them, but Cat doesn’t seem very upset about it. “I can see you on stage.”

“That’s how I started out,” Cat reminds her. “Apart from the living on Equity minimum and starving years, it was the best part of my career. I miss New York, but it’s easier to keep Carter settled in LA.”

“Well, Broadway is missing out,” Kara says, taking her glasses off. She doesn’t need to dampen her senses around Cat; her presence has the same effect of reducing the world down to one very important thing. No background noise could compete.

“Not to mention the West End,” Cat teases. “That would be something, to come here and rehearse and do eight shows a week at the Globe, or Drury Lane… but no producer would take me without using my name for publicity. And no critic would give me a fair trial. So, much like dating stunning alien blondes in public, it’s just not an option available to me any more. Price of fame, I suppose.”

“You sure about that?” Kara was going to avoid the subject altogether; she was serious about the friend thing. It’s just a few hours of proximity and joking around, and the way Cat’s perfume smells like a flower so delicate it would break just to touch it, has worn down any defenses or self-preservation Kara might have left. This isn’t a bad date. This isn’t some girl she has to pretend to like. It’s a million light years from Mike, who never entirely gives up on the idea no matter how clear Kara is about the _no_.

“Kara-”

“What happens in West London,” she whispers, leaning in just a little closer. It’s up to Cat to make the choice now.

“Stays in West London,” Cat finishes, the last syllable lost to the moment their lips meet. No having to worry about interruption this time, no onlookers or camera phones or CCTV on every corner. Judging by the way that the kiss deepens, and how they’re both grasping at clothes that give and tear and fall away so easily, Cat is just as aware as Kara that they have privacy at last.

“I missed you,” Cat gasps, pushing Kara back against the sofa cushions and straddling her lap. Kara responds by kissing Cat’s neck, pulling her closer. When Cat speaks again, Kara feels the hum of her words as much as she hears them. “Let me show you how much.”

And that, Kara realizes, is an offer she has no intention of refusing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So far in our Notting Hill Supercat AU...  
> Kara runs a bookstore in Notting Hill, Cat is a world famous movie star who pops in randomly one morning. A little later, Kara soaks her with chocolate milk, and Cat accepts her offer to clean up and get changed at Kara's house.  
> They exchange a pretty lovely kiss.  
> After a dinner date, they're interrupted at Cat's hotel by her movie star sort-of boyfriend. Disappointed, Kara nurses her broken heart while Cat moves on. Just when it should be over for good, Cat shows up unannounced and they resolve to be friends. Only, running lines on the sofa, it turns out they're still destined to be something more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait...! Here's the romcom ending!

“Oh God,” Kara whines as her t-shirt rips during Cat’s semi-frantic attempts to get it off her. “I really love that shirt.”

“I’ll buy you another,” Cat gasps between kisses, ones that land not just on Kara’s mouth now, but the lines of her neck. It’s as though the skin is lighting up with directions to _apply pressure here_. Kara didn’t even know she had particularly sensitive dips at the base of her throat, but the swirl of Cat’s tongue is almost enough to render her insensible. “I’ll buy you a damn Spice Girl, if you want. Ginger can’t be that expensive these days.”

When Cat’s fingertips skim the edge of Kara’s simple cotton bra, it’s hard to form thoughts. The electricity of Cat’s touch has Kara arching her back, and that’s not even the most sensitive part of her breasts. Hands swoop lower, almost reverent as her palms glide over Kara’s abs. Then Cat’s unhooking that bra in one fluid motion, and if the prospect of her fingers was exciting, it’s barely a flutter compared to the first gentle slip of Cat’s tongue over Kara’s already stiffened nipple.

“Fuck,” Kara blurts. She laughs softly, unused to cursing, and Cat rewards her by drawing that nipple between her lips and sucking.

“Gorgeous,” Cat mutters against bare skin as she kisses her way across to Kara’s other breast, simultaneously sliding her hands down the back of Kara’s pants. “God, you could literally bounce a quarter off this,” she groans, squeezing Kara’s ass.

“Will twenty pence do?” Kara chokes out between moans. She can’t help reminding they’re really not in Kansas, literally and figuratively. When Cat pauses to roll her eyes, Kara takes her chance and stands up. She pulls Cat along with her, peeling off her top with a little more consideration than Cat showed hers. After all, Kara doesn’t have the budget to replace cashmere that feels softer than actual clouds. “My bedroom’s upstairs.”

She already knows they won’t make it. Not the first time.

“That’s so far away,” Cat complains, untying Kara’s yoga pants as they stumble towards the door. Kara finds herself pressed up against the door frame as Cat yanks the soft cotton the rest of the way down, urging Kara out of her pants. Cat drags short, perfectly-manicured nails over bare skin on the way back to standing, and Kara whimpers a little in the back of her throat. The tingling sensation on her thighs lingers in a way she doesn’t usually experience. It’s like all of her senses are turned up, but instead of feeling overwhelmed it’s pleasant, like the bubbles in champagne.

“Too many clothes,” Kara protests, unhooking Cat’s bra without a second’s pause. She’s pleased to see Cat’s jeans already being unbuttoned and hastily shoved down. It’s not quite how this went in Kara’s many fantasies, but right now she just wants to touch Cat anywhere and everywhere. To draw a happy sigh, or that half-choked moan in the back of Cat’s throat.

Kara is doing that. Kara is causing that. She doesn’t know how she’ll ever be able to stop, now that she knows she can.

Not that Cat is exactly lying back and thinking of England right now. She seems every bit as hungry to explore as Kara. Grasping is the only word for it, the way they reach and hold on as though they might be interrupted at any moment. Like stopping would end this chance they finally have.

Kara knows what it is to want, to be turned on. It’s nothing compared to _oh dear God I’m being groped by my walking fantasy._ The carpet on the stairs is rough against her back, but Cat is so light draped on top of her. Velvety skin with that sunkissed California glow that no amount of sunblock can fully prevent.

Cat’s bare thigh slips between both of Kara’s, and the pressure only ratchets up the need swirling between them.

“Kara, I…” Cat rolls her hips, grinding slick wetness against Kara’s leg. Her thigh flexes instinctively in response, rising up to meet each undulation.

“It’s okay,” Kara says, because she can tell from her ragged breathing that the pressure alone has Cat close. “Me too.” Cat seems to understand, instinctively, pushing herself harder into each roll of her hips. It doesn’t take much from there. Kara pinching Cat’s nipples in perfect time sets her off. The sounds she makes as she comes bring Kara off right after.

“Oh _God_.” Cat tries to pick herself up, but they’re a tangled mess on the stairs. Carefully, Kara lifts them both off the ground and floats them towards her bedroom.

“So,” she says, gently righting them. They’re both naked, still a little breathless, and Kara’s left thigh is just as shiny in the afternoon light as Cat’s. “Round two?”

* * *

Kara nuzzles into her pillow again, a haven of cotton and Cat’s perfume amidst a room that smells like sex in the best possible way. There’s the faint splash of water, and Kara squints, using x-ray vision to confirm the appealing sight of Cat slipping into the bathtub.

She could join her; the tub is certainly big enough for two. But Kara is thoroughly sated and almost a little sore, which shouldn’t even be possible for her. She burrows her naked body beneath more of the sheets and drifts off to sleep.

When she wakes she can hear Mike’s voice. Her senses are always scrambled on waking and she has to concentrate to not have the whole world turned up to eleven.

“So,” he says, “you are real then. Only I’ve taken some stuff that made me think there was a mermaid living in the bathroom, and let me tell ya… that bitch was mean.”

“I am, in fact, very real.”

Kara sits bolt upright. She can’t leave Cat unprotected around Mike’s sleazy stupidity. Everything’s been so perfect today; she can’t let him spoil it.

“I’d prove I don’t have a tail, but the bubbles are in the way.”

Kara moves _really_ fast then. She’s in her sweatpants and tank top and yanking Mike back to his own hovel of a room faster than the three of them can blink.

“No! Bad alien! No talking to my dates.”

“I know, but you haven’t actually had one in all the time since you made that rule. I wasn’t sure if it still applied.” Ouch. Maybe Kara has to give him that one.

“I will give you twenty pounds to go sit in the pub until closing and not bother us again, okay?” She zips downstairs to grab her wallet, waving the purple-inked note at him. “Are you still barred from the Grapes? Because the barmaid there liked you.”

“Not barred.” Mike snatches the note and gestures towards the bathroom. “You know, she looks kind of familiar-”

“You met her before,” Kara reminds him. “The woman on the street and I spilled my drink?” He looks at her blankly. “The day you ate that whole jar of mayo?”

“Gotcha!” He gives her finger guns. “If you need any tips on pleasing a woman, even an Earth woman…”

“I really don’t.”

“Fine.” Mike sniffs the armpits of his t-shirt. “That’ll do.” Then with that leap and bound Kara has begged him not to do, he exits via his bedroom window. At least he opened it this time.

“I’m sorry if my pet project sexually harassed you.” Kara looks over Cat’s head at the pattern stencilled on the ceramic tiles. Kara had painted those dolphin the week she moved in, as a reminder of her home in Midvale. It seems impossible Cat Grant should be lying in the bath underneath them.

“Is he from the same place as you?” Cat sits up, water cascading down her honeyed skin as scant bubbles shift to reveal the petite breasts Kara is completely, irretrievably obsessed with. The neglected artist in her is dying to sketch every subtle curve.

“Different planet,” Kara says, kneeling on the mat beside the bath. “But gone, too. That’s why I feel responsible. He landed here last year, and I’ve been trying to help him fit in. Though I’ve never been all that great at fitting in myself.”

“So kind.” Cat reaches out with wet fingers, touching Kara’s cheek. “And now I know for sure that you’re generous. How did I find you?”

“The way all the best adventures begin. With a book.”

“You really need to work on that sales patter, darling. Water’s still warm?”

Kara doesn’t need to be asked twice. She’s already out of her temporary clothing and sliding into the bath. Cat wriggles forward to make room, then leans back with slippery skin and the sweet scent of Kara’s shower gel, improvised to make the bubbles. Kara pulls her closer, and Cat nestles between her parted thighs, leaning her head back against Kara’s still-dry shoulder.

“This feels nice,” Cat sighs. Kara kisses the top of her head in agreement.

By the time they make it back to the bed, Cat's voice is already slurring with the need for sleep. “I wish I could stay forever. Not that you’d want me that long, but it might be nice to try.”

“I don’t know how anyone could let you go,” Kara confesses, considering how to respond. It’s so easy to make a fool of herself. She gets a very soft snore in response.

* * *

“Well?” Cat says from the foot of the bed, two mugs in her hands. “Here it is. The harsh reality of the morning after.”

Kara sits up on her elbows, squinting in the dazzling sunshine. A few seconds and she’s reenergized. She doesn’t see any harshness. Just a stunning woman with tousled hair, no makeup and perfect skin, wearing nothing but Kara’s favorite oversized college t-shirt. It skims the top of Cat’s thighs, drawing attention to those perfectly toned legs Kara has already kissed her way up and down the length of.

“What do you mean?” She accepts the cup as Cat slips back into bed with her, sitting up cross-legged to sip her coffee. A door slams somewhere along the hall. Mike is home, then. “If it’s possible, you look even hotter than you did last night. Mussed looks good on you.”

“Flattery already got you everywhere,” Cat reminds her, but she’s smiling as she drinks her coffee. Kara sits up to do the same, completely unselfconscious after the day and night they’ve spent together. She takes that first necessary mouthful of the day and… almost spits it everywhere.

“When was the last time you made your own coffee?”

Cat sets her own aside. “Oh, somewhere around 1998? It’s pretty bad, huh?”

“I’ll go out, get us some real coffee,” Kara tells her, but Cat is already leaning in to claim a good morning kiss.

“Not just yet,” she urges, and Kara kisses back with the same enthusiasm as when they started on the sofa yesterday. “No regrets?”

“Not one.” Kara slips her hands beneath Cat’s borrowed shirt, her skin softer even than the well-worn cotton. “You were even more amazing than I imagined. And trust me, I imagined a lot.”

“People have been… disappointed. That it’s just like going to bed with anyone else. They expect Hollywood in the morning, too.”

“It was _not_ just like anyone else,” Kara assures, rubbing her thumb gently over Cat’s breast before zeroing in on her nipple, rolling it between thumb and index finger when she starts to respond, back arching so beautifully. The way her body reacts makes Kara feel like a virtuoso. “Once more with feeling?”

“Why stop at once more?” Cat moans in response.

* * *

“No seriously.” Kara peels herself away and pulls on her sneakers she’d abandoned by the front door. “I am going for coffee. You can wait five minutes, surely?”

“No,” Cat pouts. “I’m insatiable.”

“Think how much longer we can go if we’re caffeinated, hmm?” Kara says, adding a comical eyebrow wiggle. “I don’t want to go out either, but I can’t get them to deliver. You don’t know how many rainy mornings I’ve tried.”

“This is why I have an assistant,” Cat points out, settling on the bottom stair with a light thump. “Get me something completely sinful to have with it. Sweet and sticky just like between your-”

“Coffee!” Kara yelps. She stumbles down the short hallway, held up more by her cheating relationship with gravity than grace. She looks back one more time before leaving, smiling slyly at the woman waving her goodbye with fingers that… God. Kara’s reaching for the door handle when Cat is on her again, the door slowly creaking open as they kiss, Kara backed against the wall of her own hallway, Cat still in her borrowed t-shirt.

The roar is so loud at first that Kara thinks something is exploding. A well of noise pushes them apart, seemingly with sheer percussive force. Cat recovers first, scrambling to slam the door shut, yanking Kara clear almost as an afterthought.

“I can’t see!” Kara blinks, but the camera flashes have her eyes stinging like her lasers are firing, the one defense mechanism she’s never been able to keep entirely in check. “What the hell was that?”

She looks to Cat, who’s leaning against the opposite wall with her arms wrapped around herself like a crash victim at the roadside. As Kara watches, Cat lets her knees buckle and she slides down the wall until she’s sitting. She’s deathly white, visibly trembling, and Kara can’t think of anything else to do but try to offer some kind of comfort.

“What happened?” The din outside is barely muted by the heavy door between them, and a thud or two suggest the jackals are getting too close. Kara scoops Cat up, carrying her to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen, before zipping back to put every lock and bolt the old house came with firmly in place. The pack is retreating at least, the shouts tapering off in face of the closed door.

When she returns to the kitchen, Cat is pacing the short distance between the fridge and the garden door. Her strides are too long for such a confined space, like an exotic predator in an enclosure. Color has returned to her cheeks, but it’s not the pleasurable flush from yesterday. It’s a dangerous dark pink high on Cat’s cheeks. That and the shimmering tears suggest she’s close to losing it.

“When?” she spits, finally noticing Kara’s return.

“When what?”

“Don’t pull that cornfed innocent _bullshit_ with me. When did you call them? It must have been before I got up to make coffee. Even the shitty tabloids here aren’t that fast.”

“You…” Kara grabs for the kitchen stool, sitting before she falls down. “You think I would do that? To you? To _myself_?”

Cat’s lips are pressed together so tightly they’re going white, and Kara just stares and stares as the pacing continues.

“I didn’t,” Kara snaps. “So you can apologize any time you like.”

“Oh, grow up. What am I supposed to think?” Cat barges past her into the living room, retrieving her phone where it was abandoned with her purse. Judging by the frown and the way the screen keeps flashing, the news is already breaking. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just a Twitterstorm and a few days of lurid headlines. This is going to come up every time someone writes an article on me for years. Every promotional event, every job I’m considered for: _Cat Grant’s Lesbian Sex Scandal_.”

“There’s a chance they won’t believe it?” Kara says weakly. “And we’re not lesbians, so they’d be factually wrong.”

“Like that stops them.” Cat offers a glimpse of her screen, but then she’s back to stunned scrolling. Kara tries to focus on the sting of accusation, but seeing Cat so undone is worrying her far more. “I’ve been so fucking careful for years, and now this.”

“What do we do?”

“ _We_ don’t do anything.” Cat picks up the dropped items of clothing they never bothered to retrieve. “Apart from tell me there’s another way out, because I need to get myself somewhere with actual security.”

“Wait, I can protect you. I can fly you anywhere you want.”

“You think that makes it better? If I’m caught flying around with some alien?”

“Hey!” Mike comes bounding in.

“Not now.” Kara throws an arm out to stop him coming any closer, and he crumples to the floor on impact. She stands over him, temper straining at the edges. “Did you do it, Mon-El?”

“Who’s Mon-El?” Cat chimes in.

“That’s his actual name. The name he had when he showed up helpless and I gave him shelter, gave him security. I put up with being leered at and hit on, and all his piggy ways of living in _my_ house. So tell me, Mon-El. Which paper did you call first?”

“Call paper?” He groans, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his chest where Kara had hit him. “You’re not making sense.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“Oh, you mean about your date?” he teases, like it’s just a funny, funny joke. “I don’t know if you know this, Kara, but she’s actually quite a famous actress. I saw her on TV last night, told a few of the guys she was staying at our place. But I didn’t invite them back, because I know that’s another one of your silly _rules._ ”

He smiles like he’s waiting for a reward. Kara clenches and unclenches her fists. She could throw him into space. She’s had dreams about doing exactly that.

“Get. Out.”

“Oh, gotcha. A little fun in the kitchen, am I right?”

“Get out of my house, you moron. And my city, and see if you can catch a ride back off this planet because I am _done_ with-”

“Enough.” Cat lays a hand on her upper arm. “Kara, it’s okay. Don’t lose your temper over me. You could really hurt him.” 

“Yeah,” Kara agrees through gritted teeth. “I could.” He sees sense then, bounding upstairs and out of immediate reach.

“I have to go.” Cat hasn’t let go of Kara. “I’m sorry about… all that. For accusing you. I think in that first reaction I forgot that it’s happening to you too. I’m just trying to process how this is going to look. How it’s going to affect my custody hearing, my career… ”

“I don’t have anything to lose,” Kara says, her voice so very small. “Except you,” she adds with a wry smile. “But something tells me that was always going to happen. I can promise you one thing, though.”

“What’s that?” Cat gathers her things and heads for the stairs. She’s still tapping on her phone, brow furrowing.

“I won’t say a word. To anyone, ever. No matter what they offer me, or what they make up. Not unless you want me to. I can keep a secret, even one the whole world already knows about. They’ll never hear it from me.”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m not sure I deserve you. Which is probably just as well, because with all this…” She gestures towards the front of the house. “I’m not going to have you, am I?”

“Wait-”

“I have to get dressed,” Cat says. Her phone lights up again. “My driver and security will be outside in five.”

“Cat-”

“I’m sorry.” For a second it looks like she’ll cross the room again, that she’ll kiss Kara firmly on the mouth and tell her they’ll face it together after all. Then the determination fades away, the cool mask of the untouchable star slipping back into place. “I’ll just get ready through here.”

* * *

Kara doesn’t officially leave the house for four days. Well, she uses superspeed and some risky flying off the roof to stock up on supplies clear across the city. Too many people in the neighborhood will recognize her. Hank holds down the fort at the beseiged bookshop. He gleefully reports that every snooping journalist, blogger and gossip has been told the going rate for information is a minimum £50 spend. Everything he provides them with is very, very fake. Once they identify her as ‘an American business owner,’ some of the interest dies down. It doesn’t stop her checking every mention of Cat online, waiting to see if the silence will ever be broken.

Alex and James have been trying to visit, but after being doorstepped by lingering paparazzi twice, they resort to using the phone like Lucy. Kara doesn’t talk much, she’s too upset, but they all ask if she’s heard from Cat.

The silence when Kara says no is the second most embarrassing part of it all.

“She’ll call,” Lucy promises. “You’ve seen what they’re doing to her.” Hounding Cat, lying about her, stalking her through the airport and when she lands in New York. It’s hardly illogical to assume they’ll tap her phone or hack her voicemail, so Kara can’t even leave a rambling message to let her feelings out. Assuming Cat hasn’t disconnected the number already.

Some days, Kara wonders if she should expose her strength and speed and invulnerability to the world, all in the name of shielding Cat. Sure, Alex would flip, but it would pull focus entirely and give Kara the satisfaction of doing something for once, instead of letting the world just _happen_ to her.

Cat doesn’t call. A politician embarrasses himself on Snapchat, and the world turns to a new scandal, leaving Kara forgotten again at last. Forgotten too, it would seem, by the woman who made her an unwilling celebrity for the best part of a week. Kara checks her phone so often the screen cracks, finally hurling the damn thing straight through her bedroom wall.

Mike moves out by the end of the week. If she’s going to feel so damn lonely, she may as well be alone.

* * *

“Kara?” Lucy calls from the conservatory. “Kara? Are you in there?”

“Hmm?” She puts her glass of wine down, turning back with an apology on her tongue. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Everyone else is here,” Lucy says gently. “Can’t break the big news without you, Danvers.”

“I already guessed,” Kara teases. “You’ve been approved to adopt, haven’t you?”

“Spoilers, Kara!” Alex gasps from the doorway. “But yeah, these two are about as subtle as you are when it comes to secrets. We’re all thrilled for you, Luce. I had Maggie bring the good booze tonight, since the best part of adopting is not having to quit it for nine months, right?”

Kara makes her way to hug Lucy, Alex piling on until Lucy complains she can’t exactly breathe for all the sisterly squeezing.

“So Kara.” Alex pulls a rolled up copy of the Metro from her pocket with a knowing look. “It’s nice to see you actually smiling again, sis. Does that mean you’re finally… over her?”

Kara fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Yes. I’m finally over it all. Her, it, everything. Totally over it. Smiling is back on the agenda.”

“Good, because I don’t want our kid having two sulky godparents, and we all know Alex is too much of a badass to take up acting all sunshiney now,” Lucy says, and Kara gasps at the invitation. “But I’m glad to hear that too, Kara. She really did a number on you.”

“She didn’t! It wasn’t… I don’t blame her.” Kara toys at her bottom lip. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve moved on.”

“Thank God,” Alex replies, spreading the newspaper on the table next to them. “Since she’s back here in London, filming, fresh off her Oscar win. She probably even brought the little gold guy with her. She definitely brought her son, if these shots are any indication.”

Something crumples inside Kara. Cat could be only a few streets away. Is that why she’s been feeling a little better this week? Has it been some unconscious acknowledgment of Cat’s presence? Even without knowing, did it ease missing her? She’s been pining for months, far more than Kara has any right to miss her in the first place.

Lucy reaches out, patting Kara’s arm in sympathy. “Well, shit. Not so over her, huh?”

She shakes her head, reaching for the paper with trembling hands. There’s no point pretending she didn’t suffer through every glorious second of awards season, over the splashy news that Cat had won full custody of her son. This week Kara’s actually been busy revamping her store, and hasn’t been following the news with any kind of attention.

It amuses her, in the midst of it all, how even a newspaper somewhere as huge and metropolitan as London reverts to the breathless tones of a school newsletter when someone famous comes to town.

But damn, Cat looks good.

A cursory skim of the article suggests the set has been kept firmly under wraps, and the few paparazzi shots of Cat and Carter show a relaxed and happy mother. Shopping, visiting the zoo, a couple of red carpet events with Carter in a kid-sized tux. Only once or twice has Cat been out alone - never on anyone’s arm, Kara is relieved to note - but the press is still linking her with every available actor or athlete. Are they convinced her fling with a woman was a momentary blip? Or worse, are Cat’s ‘people’ trying to muddy the waters by starting the rumors? Cat, to her credit, has never denied it or tried to cash in on it. Winning an Oscar has changed the conversation for her.

“Oh, is that what’s been filming up on the Heath?” Lucy reads over her arm. “Huh, it’s a period piece. Some play they adapted, I think James said. He had to change his parkrun route.”

“That’s… oh,” Kara crumples the paper in her hands, and Alex smacks her on the shoulder, mostly with affection.

“Guess we know where you’ll be tomorrow, huh?” Kara doesn’t even try to deny it.

* * *

“Kara!” James calls from halfway down the hill behind her. “For the love of God, man. You _have_ to slow down.”

“Sorry!” she calls back, taking a swig from her sport bottle. Honestly, the only interesting thing about exercising is how cute some of the accessories are. As James closes the gap to her with long strides, she offers him a drink, but he has one of his own.

“You might want to pour some over yourself, so it looks like this is actually hell for you. You know, the way it is for normal people.”

“Normal is a relative concept,” Kara reminds him, splashing some water over her face and chest. When she’d gone to collect James, Lucy had outright demanded Kara ditch her t-shirt and go running in her crop top and leggings. _Not using those abs is just wasteful._ Kara glances down at her outfit, hoping it isn’t too desperate. Then splashes more water over her six-pack. Why the hell not, right?

James grins at her. “You’re taking Lucy’s advice. Get it, girl.”

“You really can’t pull that off,” Kara mocks as they jog the rest of the way to the temporary fences erected around the filmset. Whether kismet or just a freak accident of timing, the gates open to let a small truck through, causing Kara’s gaze to land on the huge metallic trailers. Stepping out, in her white, lacy period dress and gigantic hat, is none other than Cat.

They’re far enough apart there’s no reason for Cat to spot her, but Kara might as well be an oak tree for all the mobility she doesn’t have in the face of the woman who inadvertently broke her heart. Maybe it’s the truck, maybe it’s this ongoing dance with Fate they’ve been doing, but Cat looks up to see Kara standing there. She actually stumbles on the steps of her trailer, and the thought of Cat falling, hurting herself, is enough to spur Kara into motion.

At least the security guards don’t see her as she passes in a blur. She’ll explain to James later, but right now there’s nothing more important than being the steadying hand at Cat’s elbow.

“You came.” Despite the elaborate costume and film-grade makeup, Cat looks as vulnerable as the morning of the paparazzi showing up. “Oh Kara, I’ve thought about calling a hundred times. Wait, how did you…”

“Not entirely human, remember? Anyway, I saw you losing your balance. Just being a gentleman, I guess. I can get back out without anyone noticing, don’t worry. Love the outfit, though. Very Audrey in My Fair Lady.”

“No! No, stay. I mean, you’re here now.” Cat seems unusually flustered. Kara was a fool to ever pretend she could be over this woman. “I’ll grab a PA, have them find you a chair somewhere. Do you need something to um, cover…” Cat licks her lips, and Kara barely conceals her victorious smirk.

“Oh no, I’m just fine,” Kara says, and for the first time in months it’s actually true. It takes Cat a full thirty seconds to stop looking her up and down, to go get that PA as promised. Only when she returns, with a beleaguered assistant in tow, there’s also a very familiar-looking pre-teen boy with them.

“Carter is done with his tutor for today, so he’s going to sit with you. The director’s going to murder me with her bare hands if I hold her up any longer. Carter, darling, this is my friend Kara. You can tell her just how boring a film set is.” She kisses him firmly on the cheek, glancing at Kara in lieu of a kiss for her.

They watch Cat march off in her period costume. The chairs are set up a short distance from the cameras, so there’s little else to do beyond sitting down. Kara wriggles into the director-style chair without much grace, but Carter hops in without a second thought. He doesn’t look much like his mother up close, but when there’s a raucous noise from somewhere on-set, the flicker of irritation that blooms across his young features makes the resemblance unmistakeable.

“So,” Kara ventures as people run around - the organized chaos of a film set isn’t as glamorous as she thought. “How do you like London?”

“You’re American,” Carter says without looking up. “Do you want to be an actor, too?”

“God, no, nobody wants to see that. What about you? Are you hanging out to join the family business, or…?”

“My dad’s not an actor.” Carter turns this time. His eyes are really blue, though they have the shape of his mother’s. He has her nose, too. “I know who you are, you know.”

“You do?” Kara’s mouth goes dry. This is not the first impression she wanted to make. “It’s not like I’m famous.”

“Are you trying to be?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s a child, Kara reminds herself. She can’t get defensive.

“I saw the pictures. She did her best to hide them from me, but I have a phone. That and everyone at school suddenly being like _oh hey, can your mom get me in with Kate McKinnon_? I mean, seriously.”

“So you weren’t bullied or anything?”

“It’s 2017, Kara. _Your mom’s a lesbian_ isn’t an insult at the schools I go to. It’s a statement with, like, a 30% chance of being factually correct. Except in my friend Sophie’s case, because her mom doesn’t believe in labels. She works in television though, and you know how they are.”

“Right, television,” Kara agrees, as though she has the first idea what she’s talking about. “So, everything’s okay?”

His stare is withering. _Definitely_ all Cat. “Okay? Until the Oscar nominations, she was a wreck. It might not have been bad for me, but it meant my dad almost won full custody. I mean, I love my dad but come on… and every day, the articles. My mom can’t have coffee with someone without the papers saying it’s my new stepmom. So… thanks, I guess?”

Kara’s blood runs cold. Trying to move on had meant telling herself Cat lived in a rarefied bubble, a world of privilege that headlines and online gossip couldn’t touch. That Cat would be safe from the intrusion and rudeness of it all. The thought of those tabloid rags being able to upset her, to risk her relationship with her son… Carter still sounds upset, and no kid should have to deal with that.

“I’m really sorry, Carter.”

“You don’t need to be. My mom says sometimes I can be too blunt about the things I say. Was this one of those times?”

“No, not at all.” Kara gives him a big smile. She shouldn’t be here. She’s pushing her way in where she wasn’t invited, and Cat’s probably just humoring her to avoid a scene where so many people could overhear and sell a story to the tabloids. “But I just remembered, I have this work thing.”

“You’re leaving? Is it because you wanted to hang out with my mom and got me instead?”

“Hey, if I’d known I could hang out with you, I would have cleared my whole day. But I can’t go to a business meeting like this, so I really need to hit the road, you know?”

“No,” Carter replies, suspicious. “I don’t.”

“Tell Cat it was really nice to see her again. And that I’m sorry.” Kara moves a little too fast, but no one seems to notice. There’s some issue with the sound guys, and Cat can’t see her exit thanks to the gaggle of tall crew around her. Hitting the public path again, Kara struggles to stick to human speeds. As soon as she’s covered by some trees, she risks taking off for the short flight home.

When she’s safely back, Kara leans against the inside of her front door, the very spot where it all went so wrong. She presses her head against the painted wood and lets the fresh tears fall.

* * *

“You okay to come out front?” Hank peers around the door frame of the stock room. “You did say I could go early today, and I have plans-”

“Go, go,” Kara insists. She hasn’t done a thing with the stock, apart from idly flipping through a guide to Los Angeles. Getting up, she zips out to take his place behind the cash register. “See? Perfectly capable of running my own store. Now go show M’gann a good time, would you?”

“You’re okay?” he asks, though he’s clearly uncomfortable they’re in such personal territory. “I could just close up early.”

“No need, honestly. About time I did some work around here, after being late this morning.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Hank hesitates on his way out, framed by the shop’s doorway. Dressed all in black as he is, Kara has the fleeting impression of a bouncer barring entry to a club. “Customer!” he calls over his shoulder, and Kara quickly tidies the counter in front of her.

“Hi there,” she begins, lifting her head from a now perfect stack of bookmarks. “Welcome to… to…”

“Oh, I’ve been here before,” Cat fills the stuttering gap, smooth as honey. “But I confess, I’m not really in the market for a book right now.”

Kara wills her heart to beat again, because she’s quite sure it’s stopped in her chest.

“I, um…”

“There’s that eloquence that drives the girls crazy.” Cat moves closer, until only the slender inches of the countertop divide them. “I think you were trying to say that you ran off earlier today.”

“I had work.” Kara gestures to the otherwise empty store.

“Mmm. It’s a regular Black Friday stampede,” Cat says, her gaze never leaving Kara’s face. “Why did you leave? It wasn’t because I left you with Carter, was it?”

“Of course not! He’s… he’s a great kid! I love kids, and really it was just a timing thing.”

“Kara, why are you running away from me? I know - trust me, I remember in exquisite detail - that you were in running gear, but that’s a little on the nose, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hey, Kara!” Great. Another customer.

“Not now, Winn.” It takes superhuman self-control for Kara to sound polite.

“No, no, I mean I actually need a travel book this time, can you believe it? I met this great girl, and she wants to go to Paris. And I know, I know, I could just get an app, but she likes newspapers and writing notes, so why not a proper guidebook, right?”

“Paris is quite beautiful this time of year,” Cat answers for her. “And would you look at that? There’s a whole section right here. Now, I’ve only ever used a street map and a Michelin guide, but you seem like a smart boy who knows what he wants.”

“But you’re… I mean, I still have my book from when…”

“I’m so glad you treasured it. Here’s a Lonely Planet, will that do?” Cat foists the book on him, leading him back towards the door like she manhandles grown men every day.

“But I have to pay-”

“It’s on me,” Cat insists, and then he’s out the door and she’s flipping the vintage sign to ‘closed’. “Now,” she says, turning back. “Where were we?”

“I was running away.”

“Oh yes. Abs and all.” When Cat grins, it’s not as bright as it might be. “But it seems I’ve caught up to you. I’ve missed you, Kara. I had to work earlier, but I’m free now.”

“Free for…?”

“Well, I thought dinner might be a start.” Cat leans across the counter, smoothing Kara’s necklace where it’s tangled slightly against her collar. “Hopefully without any punks causing a scene this time. I especially liked the whole pizza in your living room deal.”

“Cat-”

“Oh, I know that tone,” Cat shushes her, finger moving to her lips. “And you’re thinking I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t crashed the set yesterday. That you’ve forced my hand in some way. That’s why I brought this.”

She picks up a wrapped parcel that’s been leaning against her leg while they talk. “I brought this with me to London. It’s been hanging in my apartment in New York, and every time I looked at it, I thought _there’s a better home for this_ , you know?”

“Can I open it?” Kara has always been giddy about presents.

“No, not while I’m here. You’ll make me blush. Or at least not until we’ve talked about dinner. I know how you feel about food.”

Kara takes a deep, steadying breath, ignoring the way her heart is beating. She has to be smart, be sensible. Has to take responsibility for the moping, miserable mess she’s been for months.

“Would it be okay, if I just said… well, no?”

The expectant smile on Cat’s beautiful face fades, inch by inch. “You don’t want to have dinner?”

“I just… talking to Carter made me realize what all this could have cost you. How lucky I was that the intrusion wasn’t worse. Maybe someone normal could adjust, but there’s a reason I live my life in the shadows. Anyone looking too closely at me could find out secrets that I can’t afford to share.”

“What did Carter say, exactly?”

“Don’t be mad at him,” Kara pleads, though she doubts Cat is ever anything but patient with her son, from the little she’s seen of them together. “He just gave me perspective.”

“So you’re being noble? Saving me from scandal, and yourself from the paparazzi?” Cat grips the edge of the counter. It makes Kara feel queasy to have upset her like this, but she has to do the right thing for all of them. “You know this fame thing is bullshit, right? If I’m careful, if we’re smart, we can avoid it so much of the time.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t fall in love often. At all, really. Everyone always says I have this big heart, that I love too easily, but that’s the simple stuff. I love my sister, I love my friends. I’ve dated, I’ve put myself out there. But nothing, no rejection or heartbreak, has ever come close to the agony I’ve been in since you stormed out on me all those months ago.”

“Kara-”

“No, please. Let me finish. This is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. Being with you is a dream. A fantasy. But just like one of your movies, it has to end. You’ll go on to have this amazing career, and your gorgeous family, and success… and I want that for you, I truly do. Me? I’ll be stuck here in Notting Hill, picking up the pieces. Only that’s really hard to do, because you are _everywhere._ Your picture in the paper, your movie posters on the bus, on the tube. I’ve tried not to look, I barely go online, but there you are anyway.”

“You’re right,” Cat concedes, before raising a finger in reproach. “About some of it.” She comes around the counter then, not much space for them both behind the register, but Kara isn’t complaining. “I’m also here, right now.”

“I will always think of you fondly, Cat,” Kara promises. “You’ll never be just a star to me, I’ll always remember the real you, that I’ve been so lucky to get to know.”

“Am I dying?” Cat sounds like she’s teasing, but those are definitely tears forming in her eyes. It might be a scene from one of her movies, except watching those never made Kara feel this hollow. All this time nursing her broken heart, and it turns out breaking Cat’s hurts ten times worse.

“We live in two different worlds” is the only way Kara can find to explain it. “And while I loved visiting yours, I don’t think I belong there, do you?”

“I’d like to think you belong with me.”

Kara gasps at the openness of the words. It’s almost enough to make her reconsider, but then Cat carries on.

“I know it seems like I’m desperately hanging on, but I’d give it all up tomorrow, you know. It’s nonsense. A game for adults, who really should know better. So far it’s cost me my marriage, a good portion of my sanity, and almost my son. I know that sounds ridiculous in a year where I’ve won more awards than I have bathrooms to keep them in, but I’ve never been less satisfied by my career.”

“Would you be satisfied with me? A bookstore owner? Not even a successful one? How are we going to date when you’re going back to the States tomorrow?”

“We’d think of something. Kara, I need to ask you one more favor. Can you look at me? Good. Now when you look at me, don’t think about movies or fancy dresses or camera flashes. I’m just a girl, standing in front of another girl, asking you to love me.” Her lower lip trembles, and for the first time Kara knows she’s not the only one who fell too hard and too fast.

“I’d be honored to love you,” Kara admits. “But I’m not sure I’d survive it. I’m sorry, Cat.”

Cat nods, a little too enthusiastically given the circumstances. She skims a finger over the neatly wrapped parcel, before stepping back from Kara.

“Well, you take care. And if you’re ever in LA… well, I’ll just apologize for the city in advance. Goodbye, Kara.”

“Goodbye.” There’s an instant, in the handful of steps before the door chimes to signal Cat’s exit, when Kara could call the whole thing off. Give in to the silent macarena in her brain that’s screaming _stop her, you idiot_ on a near-constant loop.

No. This is the mature thing to do. Absolutely for the greater good. Except that good is the last thing she feels as Cat walks out of her life.

* * *

“And that’s why,” Kara concludes, looking from Alex, to Hank, across at Lucy. “I told her that it wasn’t worth the inevitable heartbreak for both of us.”

“Well, I mean… that makes sense.” James breaks the awkward silence that descends over the group. They’re having breakfast at Kara’s favorite cafe, just moments from her home and store.

“Yeah,” Maggie chimes in. “I mean, who needs the drama of dating Cat Grant? Nothing but trouble from the moment you met her, right?”

“She did break your heart two times out of two,” M’gann supplies in support, lifting her chai latte in commiseration. Kara finishes her chocolate milk after offering a silent toast to her newest friend, one she’s told Hank they’ll be keeping even if he screws up their relationship. It had been worth saying just for his answering glare.

“And the thing about actresses,” Lucy says, “is that they’re all as mad as a box of frogs. A lucky escape, Danvers. Well done.”

Just then, Mike comes bundling through the cafe door like an overgrown Doberman. Kara hasn’t relented on letting him move back in, but seeing him socially hasn’t been entirely terrible. He rounds out their group now that everyone else is coupled off, even if she’d hurl herself into the sun before dating him.

“Am I late? Did I miss the big news?”

“Yes.” Kara sighs, because he’s always late. For everything. Maybe they didn’t have a concept of time on his planet. “And yes. But it’s not so big, really. I just wanted you all to know that Cat showed up yesterday after I went to her film set, and she asked if we could be together.”

“So why are you here? Is she here too? ‘Cause I want her to sign my boxers so I can put them on eBay.”

“First of all, ew,” Alex interrupts. “And second of all, Kara was just telling us that the best thing for her, and her broken heart, is to let Cat go.”

“Right, right,” Mike strokes his invisible beard. Somehow, he thinks it makes him look wise. “Turned her down. Got it.”

“Thanks,” Kara says to her sister, relieved someone else is doing the legwork for a moment. “So, Mike-”

“And you say _I’m_ a moron,” he interrupts, bursting into fits of laughter. “Hoo boy, that is rich, coming from a grade A idiot like yourself. You nearly had me fooled, Kara. I thought you were so much smarter than me. But now? Total chump.”

“Hey!” Kara squeaks at him. “What are you babbling about?”

He gathers himself, wiping a tear from his eye. “Uh, you’ve spent months brooding over her. Totally tortured yourself. Then you get another chance, and you throw it back in her face? You’re lucky she didn’t slap you. Wait, did she slap you?”

“No! She was… she was really lovely about it, actually. I mean I did reject one of the world’s most beautiful women. Did I mention that she was planning to visit me anyway? She brought a gift. From her home.”

“That’s the package?” James asks, picking it up from where it rests against Kara’s chair. He tears the packaging, knowing how useless she is at taking the plunge with gifts. “Hey, I recognize this. Isn’t this in your store?”

He turns the framed painting around, brown paper ripped almost entirely away.

“Kara?” Hank pipes up, setting his double espresso down without taking a sip. “I do believe that’s the original.”

“Holy shit.” Lucy speaks for all of them. “An original Chagall, you’re looking at well over a mil-”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Kara cuts her off, eyes welling up. “The first day we met we talked about this painting, about the colors. She remembered.”

“You know.” Alex gets out of her chair and comes around the table to lay her hand on Kara’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m beginning to think Mike has a point.”

“What?”

“The woman you’re crazy about showed up with an expensive, thoughtful gift… and you’re turning her down? Don’t get me wrong, I could kick her ass for hurting you, but this time I think you’re the one doing that.”

“She did… she did say a nice thing, or two.” Kara’s certainty falls away beneath her, just like the earth does when she flies. “ _I’m just a girl, standing in front of another girl, asking you to love me_.”

A quiet sigh goes up around the group, everyone recognizing the sentiment. She’d been wrong. Kara had picked the wrong play, and there was no time to fix it. Cat would be flying home today, and even though Kara could race her place across the Atlantic and win, the damage might already be done.

“Okay, I need to… I need to go to her hotel!” Kara says, seizing on a plan. “As fast as possible, but in a very normal, human way. I cannot blow this by outing myself. Any suggestions?”

“We’ve got our bikes,” Alex suggests, as she and Maggie spring into action, grabbing their motorcycle helmets. “Want to jump on the back?”

“Uh, sure.” Kara frowns. “Do you have a spare helmet?”

“Why?” Alex asks, leading them into the street. “Has your head suddenly become breakable?”

“Fair point. She’ll be at the Ritz. I think.”

As they rev the engines, Kara notices James helping Lucy into their car, and Hank, M’gann and Mike piling into the back.

“Is this a field trip now?” Kara groans, as Alex and Maggie bicker about Marble Arch versus Knightsbridge. Maybe she should say to hell with it and-

They’re in motion. Weaving in and out of traffic at a speed that makes Kara incredibly concerned for her sister’s safety. She doesn’t comment, not that Alex would hear her anyway. Just holds on tight and wills the motorcycle not to crash. Focusing on that drowns out the ticking clock in her head.

It seems Alex picked the right route, because in no time at all they’re roaring down Piccadilly, making the tourists gawp and the Londoners ignore them. While the engine is still idling, Kara rushes into the hotel a little too fast. She keeps her balance with her powers more than her feet.

“I’m here to see Ms Woolf,” she gasps. “Assuming she hasn’t left yet.”

The receptionist types into his terminal. “No guest of that name, sorry.”

“Oh.” Thousands of hotels in London. It doesn’t have to be this one. “Don’t suppose… A Ms Dickinson?”

“Ah, yes. Emily. Absolutely a guest here, but already checked out.”

“Dammit.” If it’s Heathrow she’s going to have to fly in herself, and Air Traffic Control get so pissy over unidentified flying bodies on their radar.

“However, she is attending a press conference in the Music Room, madam. A final act of promotion for her next film, I believe.”

“I could kiss you!” Kara shrieks, though she doesn’t. As carefully as she can manage, she follows the receptionist’s gesture towards a large private dining room. Inside there’s a rabble of press, at least a hundred. They’re all focused on the improvised stage at the front of the room. At the table atop it sits Derek the publicist, with Cat beside him. She looks dangerous today, lips red, her leather jacket a shade of black that draws Kara into it. Camera shutters keep firing, as Derek answers some banal question about which designer made her dress.

Then he throws it open to the floor, and the roar of a hundred shouted questions is as close to a migraine as Kara will ever experience.

One by one, her friends pile in through the door behind her. Support, love, all the safety and care she could ever need. They’re here for her, and they always will be.

“Yes, Simon?” Derek waves to some journalist with a notepad and pen.

“Cat, you’ve filmed in London twice in two years, and there are always rumors of new projects. How long will you be staying in the UK, now the film is wrapped?”

“I’m going home after this press conference. So keep the questions to ten words or less, please.”

“Siobhan?” Derek calls on the next journalist.

“On your previous trip to London, you were spotted in a compromising situation with a gorgeous young woman.” Kara wants to dart across the room and clamp a hand over the reporter’s mouth. “Anything ever happen with that? You had no date to the Oscars, after all?”

“I took my son, Carter,” Cat deflects. “But yes, that particular relationship didn’t work out. It happens. You’ve covered my sexuality ad nauseum. We’re just friends.”

“Better question - Kelly?” Derek warns.

Kara doesn’t hear Kelly’s question, because Cat has spotted her in the middle of the crowd. Time slows to a crawl as their eyes meet, and Kara can only hear the pounding of her own heart, loud, rapid, steady.

When Derek’s next call comes up, Rao help her, Kara raises her hand.

“Yes, you in the pink blouse? Wired, wasn’t it?”

“Kara Danvers, freelance,” she supplies instead. Lying publicly would be wrong. “Miss Grant, is there any chance that you and this girl-”

“Her name is Keira,” a nearby journalist says, unhelpfully.

“You and this girl might, given the right circumstances, be more than friends?”

The murmurs build to a roar when Cat stops Derek from shutting down the question, placing a hand on his forearm.

“That was what I hoped,” she replies, and the flashes go off at twice the rate to catch her leaning into the microphone. “But it seems that it wasn’t meant to be. Her decision, not mine.”

The crowd is worked up now, and someone finally realizes who’s asking the question. They start to jostle Kara, but she’s unmovable in the sea of people.

“So if-” she begins, but Derek cuts her off.

“One question per outlet,” he warns, until Cat touches his forearm again.

“I’ll take the follow-up.”

“Bet she will,” someone snorts from behind, but Kara can’t see who as she whirls around.

“So if she were to admit that she had been hasty, in fact almost stupid you could say, and that she’d like nothing more than to be more than your friend… what would you say?”

“Oh, there’d be no doubt about it. I’d say yes.”

Applause breaks out in the crowd of journalists, and Kara rolls her eyes at them. While she basks in the feeling of getting the girl after all, Cat whispers something to Derek, who calls on Simon again.

“Can you ask your question one more time?”

“What, how long are you staying in London?”

Cat leans into the mic once more, her eyes never leaving Kara. “Oh, I’d say for a good long while yet.”

* * *

“Kara?” Alex sounds so far away. “Kara, wake up, come on.”

“No,” Kara pleads, eyes resolutely still closed. “It’s such a lovely dream. Don’t make me.”

“Kara Danvers, get your alien ass out of this bed in the next ten seconds, or I have authorized Maggie to use maximum force.”

“That’s right, KD,” Maggie calls from across the room. “I’ve got a Super Soaker here, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Cracking one eye open, Kara hurls a pillow at her sister. It bursts on impact. “If Cat were here, she’d kick both your asses.”

“Just as well you’re old-fashioned about not spending the night before your wedding with the bride then, isn’t it?” Alex teases, ducking out of the mess of feathers. “And the Ritz are definitely going to charge you for that pillow.”

Kara sits up and stretches, reenergized by the sunlight pouring in through the window. What a perfect day to marry the love of her life, her very own fairytale ending.

Two hours later she’s standing with Hank outside the elegant reception room, finally free of the hair and makeup and dress assistance that make for a modern bride. Cat, and their friends and families, are waiting inside.

“It’s not too late,” Hank reminds her, arm linked with hers. “If we walk at a brisk pace, we could have the shop open before the lunch hour rush is over.”

“Have we ever had a lunch hour rush?”

“No reason it can’t start today. I’ll make sure we have one by the time you get back from your honeymoon.” Kara kisses his cheek, and he stands a little straighter. The music strikes up and Hank nods towards the open doors. “I believe they’re playing your song.”

Kara smiles.

Six crazy months since that press conference. Two countries on two different continents, and now they’re getting married, a month before Cat opens her first play in London, as both producer and star. She’s six seconds from walking down the aisle, and it’s never felt more like the right thing to do. The nerves stop chattering, the doubts melt away. Kara steps forward, just enough to see Cat waiting with the registrar, her creamy lace dress a vision that takes Kara’s breath and steals it clean away. Carter is beside her in his tux, curls tamed and his smile just as huge as they are.

Her family.

Hank at her side, everyone else there in the front row, beaming at her like their own happiness depends on it. Alex pats the pocket of her tux; she’s remembered the rings. Kara just has to move forward, and it’s all she can do to keep from floating.

* * *

“You’ve stopped looking,” Kara says, setting her book down to consider her wife. Cat is lying on the bench they’re sharing, head in Kara’s lap. They’re both wearing sunglasses as protection from the late morning sun, in their quiet communal garden, a few streets from Kara’s former house in Notting Hill.

“Looking at what?” Cat asks, engrossed in a script that was messengered over last night. With the play closing after a sellout run, it’s time to think about next year.

“Looking around, to see if people are watching. You’re finally relaxed.”

“Oh, that.” Cat smiles up at her, dropping the script to the grass beneath them and cradling her growing bump. “Well, you know how Londoners are. They don’t really care about the pregnant American actress and her beautiful wife.”

“How’s the script?” Kara punctuates the question by leaning over for a kiss. Her hand lies gently on top of Cat’s, and they wait for the baby to kick. “What do you think, Carter? LA in the spring?”

“Do we have to?” He looks up from his handheld game. “I haven’t mastered the accent here yet,” he adds, in a Dick Van Dyke level Cockney voice. “Besides, Alex is going to teach me how to ride a motorcycle.”

“Not likely,” Cat informs him. She swats Kara playfully. “Could you keep your family under control, please?”

“Still working on that,” Kara confesses. “You know, a lot of things are starting to film here now, for the tax breaks. Star Wars, a whole bunch of them.”

“You’d make a good Jar-Jar, Mom,” Carter teases.

“They still have the concept of _grounded_ in England, young man,” Cat warns, but she’s still smiling. “Anyway, I don’t need to rush back to work afterwards. The projects will be there. I might even do another play.”

Kara runs her hand gently through Cat’s curls. “Good. Because I think we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, don’t you?”

Cat sits up then, pulling Kara into a hug. “I do,” she agrees. “I absolutely do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal thanks to @catherinegrant, who whipped this baby into shape.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a very lovely friend.
> 
> Title from the Ronan Keating song on the film's soundtrack and a nod to my misspent youth, or at least the bit of it trying to convince myself I fancied anyone in Boyzone.


End file.
